It is often said that the stuff of dreams fuels the imagination. For some, the fantastical quality of dreams can be a powerful stimulus to writing. Those early morning thoughts are often little pearls to treasure, and a notebook by the bed is a must to scribble them down before they are lost in the rush of normal daytime activity.
What about my dreams? It would be quite a challenge to convert my sleeping experiences into good narrative. For example, one morning I woke feeling exhausted having spent what seemed like the whole night searching in a huge building complex for a working shower, getting more and more angry as every one I found was non functioning. No, we didn't have a plumbing problem at home, and I had definitely showered that morning, so it remains a mystery why my consciousness insisted on this long, fruitless search.
This morning I woke with the image of a young hare in a field, sitting surrounded by buttercups. A red squirrel in a tree close by was chattering a warning to the little hare as a giant red cabbage came careering down the hill towards the buttercup patch. Powerful imagery for a children's story perhaps?
The notebook is on the bedside table, with a pen, waiting for those inspirational ideas. Perhaps the story of the hare will continue tonight and I will find out where the giant cabbage came from.