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.
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