Somewhere between the snooze button and daystart a novel lived and breathed. Characters, plot, conflict, setting all existed in Technicolor wonderment. My eyes open and the novel spins away, deconstructing into bits and fragments, falling away into the vortex called fully awake.
My lingering smile is evidence that I am not frustrated nor disappointed at the inability of fitting the wings onto real time or weave the dream into existence.I could pop up and run to my laptop and try to recapture the trails of dream vapor. I instead lay there relishing the essence of having written the perfect novel. How can a dream novel truly be captured? How can I possibly break in on the dance between my subconscious and imagination?
Someday realtime will be bold enough to tap in and take the lead and the words, thoughts, inspiration that reside in the translucency of subconscious shall willingly traipse off dream’s dance floor onto printed page. Until then I welcome the nightly waltz.
- Is It Just Me? (chyrondave.wordpress.com)
- I’m always dreaming, even when I’m awake; it is never finished. (ask.metafilter.com)
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