Last night's dream was like something by Neil Gaiman. A 1930s hotel, academics with chalk boards and impeccable tweed, a couple called 'the flayed ones' - a woman and a bear with their faces peeled off - who were dancing with each other and scouting for contracts on other people's lives, and a woman who got thrown down the middle of a stairwell, and when she hit the floor someone picked up her scream exactly. I was commenting on the excellent effects and horror notes while dreaming, and woke up unnerved and discombobulated enough that I had to go to the bathroom and wash my face, but not scared precisely. It felt kind of like something out of Sandman.
I obviously need to get back to more writing, my dreams are always craziest when I'm not giving the brain stories a release. :D
So far it's been about four days this year that I haven't written, and I'll be more chuffed with that result when it's not the four days closest to me...
I obviously need to get back to more writing, my dreams are always craziest when I'm not giving the brain stories a release. :D
So far it's been about four days this year that I haven't written, and I'll be more chuffed with that result when it's not the four days closest to me...