Dreams are getting really strange, let me tell you. Maybe it was my mind getting back at me for slamming zombies yesterday; I don’t know.
Lets put it this way: I found my dream mind taking me to hang out with character from Game of Thrones, only Westeros looked a little like a cross between a far west Chicago suburban development, and a run-down version of downtown Indianapolis. Everyone was tooling about Maseratis, save for Tyrion Lannister, aka the (P)Imp, who was driving around in a Bugatti Veyron.
As for me, I spend most of my time hangin’ out with The Mother of Dragons, though I never saw the dragons, and some guy by the name of Mars Serpentcraft, who I know isn’t a character in any of the stories, but who looked a lot like Sean Bean. In the dream I looked a little like Daenerys, only with red hair and no dragons to keep me company–though I do think I was wearing the yoga pants.
What happened, you ask? Um . . . I spent a lot of time trying to figure out the phases of the moon, the Daughter of Death was giving me tips on skin care and how to kill people, and it seemed like, from time to time, I had to fight off killer bugs that eventually turned into cooked Cornish hens.
Oh, and I had a Lamborghini Murciélago to drive, so at least there was something good happening. Though my feet seemed to keep slipping off the brake; must have been the heels.
I have no idea where there was coming from, honestly. I had a long, trying day yesterday, and I believe that my mind may have been revolting against something that could have been, I don’t know, perhaps logic? It was something strange to go through, and the fact that it was no only vivid, but went on for a very long time, and involved things that I never would suspect–like The Silver Lady and I heading into town to buy drugs, and getting into a fight over the cost, after which we hacked the dealers to death with short swords. Maybe it was because they kept saying, in falsetto voice, “Where are my dragons?” That was pissing us both off like no one’s business. Let me tell you, this is the sort of stuff I couldn’t make up if I wanted.
This all might have come about, too, because I was actually thinking about a story. No, not my NaNo Novel 2012, but–believe it or not–a story that would happened to the same characters some years after this current story I’m planing. Yes, that’s right: I’m thinking about another story for the characters I’m putting into a story now, but this would be something that will happen to them at some point in the future.
Why am I thinking this? Why am I planing stories that I might not write for years? Hey, that’s what I do. I think ahead; I plan; I get ready. Plot bunnies, my ass: I keep ideas at ready, so that when I’m ready, I get them down.
I have maybe twenty-five years of writing ahead of me, so why not have stuff to write?
I mean, it’s either that, or going shopping while covered in blood in my dreams.