Bad DreamsJuly 1, 2009
I woke up with all sorts of clever, interesting things to tell you, and since I emailed Revision Three of Book Two to my Fabulous Agent yesterday, I have free writing time in the morning before work (HELLO FOUR AM WHY AM I UP AGAIN?) for a few days, and you were gonna reap the benefit of that. Now, however, I'm sleepy and I can't remember anything but a dream I had.
(Yes, the commonly accepted rule is that other people's dreams are boring. However, this is my blog, and I will do my best not to bore you, how's that? No promises, though.)
I was in a large train station. I found a stack of money (a lot of fifties and some ones- - WOOT) along with a bunch of checks. The checks were all made out for specific amounts, but the TO line of each was blank.
For about as long as I would have been in real life, I was tempted to keep the money; that is to say, I was tempted for about forty-five seconds. And then I was just PISSED that in my dream I was going to be honest. (It was one of those annoying dreams where you know it's a dream but can't control it.)
It's one thing to know that in real life you would be honest. Sure. Whatever. Hopefully we all know that. But in a dream? You want to be wild! A rebel! A crook! I wanted to put the money in my pocket and head to Morocco, not trudge up to the ticket window to turn it all in. Sigh.
That, my friends, is too rigid. BO-ring. I shall work harder at being a daring criminal in my dreams.
(The next dream was about traveling with my sister Christy in Borneo, except I'd made the small mistake of bringing all three dogs and four cats. And they got out on a wild plain above the ocean. And I realized while trying to wrangle Harriet into a cat carrier that I'd forgotten to buy any souvenirs. That was not a good dream.)
PS - Almost forgot, Sile of KnitOneOne wanted me to mention for you locals a good spinning class coming up: HERE.