It seems that I get a lot of my ideas for stories when I’m trying to sleep. As such, I keep a small notebook and pen by my bed to jot down my ideas in the hope that come morning, I’ll be able to read my handwriting. But this morning, something different happened. This may have happened before, but I don’t remember if it has or not. Anyway, I had a dream this morning where my family went to some medieval amusement park type place. I don’t remember much, but I do remember at one point I picked up a plastic “torch” and dunked the end in these jars of lamp oil they had sitting around, for some reason. My plan was I would then be able to light it and have a real torch, because we all know that a oil soaked chunk of plastic, at the end of a plastic handle, is the idea form for a torch. But as I carried this thing around waiting for the right time to light it, I had an idea for a story, so – in the dream – I found a sheet of paper and pen and wrote myself a note.
When I woke up, I couldn’t tell if it was funny or sad that I wrote myself a dream note. Of course, now that I’m fully awake, I see that my great idea isn’t so good. I might be able to make something of it, but I doubt it will live up to awe of being a dream note.