Dreams as Inspiration

I don’t dream every night, or even close to it. But I do have amazingly detailed and complex dreams. Everything from epic journeys to wild adventures to new worlds that don’t exist yet. And then there’s the occasional "dumb" dream where I’m eating, or looking for a bathroom, or walking down a street. I don’t like those ones.

When I say my dreams can be complex, I mean really complex. One of my most memorable dreams (from when I was in high school) involved Pokemon, unicorns running through a library, watching tiny fish eat a microwaved burrito (which was meant to poison me but it had to be eaten or there would be consequences). There was also an arrow shaped arrow quiver, in depth conversations, and a man yelling at the rat-faced unicorns.

That dream sticks with me as one of the most involved, vivid and ridiculous dreams I've ever had. Someday I’ll remember it or find some scrap of paper I wrote it on and I’ll write the whole thing out.

Another amazingly vivid dream that I had more recently was some kind of post-apocalyptic thing where it was necessary to stay underground during the night (or was it day?). Underground was an intricate system of tunnels, hierarchy and species. There were rooms of stacked beds, mutants who had to stay underground, and dangerous sublevels. Above ground were hostile authorities, but venturing above ground was the only way to get food.

I had a dream about hiding within castle walls with other princesses, and long slides that helped us escape. I had a dream about swimming with orcas while two men pulled an island behind me with two catamarans.

While most of them are amazing now (and more than a few have given me amazing ideas for short stories or novels), I also remember some that have been terrifying. As a child I had several recurring nightmares. When I was very young there was a dream where a monster would chase me around and find me no matter how quiet I was or how well I hid. I had a dream where someone tried to take my little brother and no matter how hard I fought, nothing worked. I stabbed the man with a screwdriver, but it wasn’t really the man. It was a freshly leaking paint can. I had dreams where a man was stalking me, watching me from across the street, following me when I walked to the store, or watching me from feet away.

I had a dream where I could smell the minty breath of a man who was too close.

I had a dream where I died. I know you’re not supposed to do that in dreams, but I did. I died. I was on stage and I got shot. I fell off the stage into the arms of the crowd and I spoke to them, and then I died. I didn’t wake up immediately, and I know it because it felt just like sleeping without dreaming after that.

I’ve had dream journals before, and I’ve used computers and cell phones to keep track of them, but they always seem to get lost. Some dreams seem to stick with me forever though, and I really should get on exploring, expanding, and writing them. Maybe this blog will be the kick in the pants I need to make that happen. Some dreams are suitable for short stories and some for entire series’.

I know this post was kind of all over the place, but that’s how I’m feeling right now.

How about you?

Do you keep a dream journal? Do you ever get inspiration from your dreams? Have you ever died in a dream?

Let me know. And if you’ve ever written anything from your dreams, post a link to it if it’s online or for sale.

Sleep well!

Camp NaNoWriMo

Camp NaNoWriMo started on the first, and I am so there!

Okay, "there" is a website where you track your progress and distract yourself from what you should actually be doing, by reading tips and inspiration, messaging other people with similar goals, and updating your novel info. Instead of actually writing it. 

In general, I'm pretty much a pantser. Which means I write by the seat of my pants, not just ON it. (Okay, I rarely wear pants, but that's another story.) This time, however, since I have put myself on a pretty tight deadline (2 novels done and revised by September) I am planning. Planning is hard, but probably not as hard as going through the first draft thinking "was I asleep? How's someone going to have sex with an exploded rib cage?" or "Wow, that's out of character" or "Wait, I thought his name was John, not James".

Normally it doesn't matter. I have all the time in the world to figure out where the scene in my head fits into a bigger picture or who the star of the bigger picture is and then they kind of carry  it from there.

Normally I've got all the time in the world to turn some nonsense into a plot, fix names, dot T's cross I's and go back and realize I got that backward.

So I decided that with some kind of rough outline, I should be able to stay mostly on track. It starts with the characters.

Actually, in this case, it started with a bar. Then the characters came along.

I came up with Antonia Weathers, TV weather girl, legit meteorologist, and part time Zumba instructor. I needed her to be in shape for the adventures to come, and Zumba seems like the perfect balance of energy and agility. Plus, as a half-Brazilian, half-English American girl, I think that it also kind of kicks off the image of a smiling, busty, dark haired super-energetic outgoing woman who sometimes doesn't get taken too seriously.

Then I decided that the hero would be a kind of… accidental murdered turned assassin. He's special, and because of his unique gift he never fit in anywhere. The first people to take him in are on the wrong side of an elemental war. He loves them like family, the only family who ever excepted him.

The bar is a bar for elementals, people with unique power over elements, to relax and be themselves. They all exist in harmony at this particular bar, Thirteenth Floor. Thanks to a brief stint in a journalism class, Antonia has gained lifetime membership and the story opens with her at the bar on a Friday night. He is there, watching her, trying to figure out why she is so special and how she has access.

He had to trick his way in, too, since he isn't one of the four classic elementals. His element is electricity, which is far more rare, mostly because it presents in more subtle ways.

They meet, something happens where she is exposed as a Void, an anti-elemental who absorbs elemental powers. They end up falling in love somehow, more stuff happens, and then he either switches sides or…. something…

I'm bad at plotting, okay? I already admitted that!  

So far I'm just over 1,000 words in, so I'm pretty much already behind. Luckily all I have to do is invoke the power of "I'm asking for your support here", and my man will (okay, should) basically take care of whatever I need. I'll be putting that to the test while trying to knock out 70,000 words this month. 

But hey, I get a fun graph to track my progress with!