That moment when you wake up from a nightmare you were having and realize you were dreaming about something you wrote- oh gosh.
I was hunting a Trook, the Big Bad from my two-books-completed young adult fantasy series. Holy smokes it was scary. I was Bazzil, hunting it through a house, with people, who may or may not have been Bazzil’s entourage from me second book, backing me up as I stalked through dark hallways.
Around a corner: a Trook! Only it was more like a Ring Wraith. It wielded a sword I recognized- Bilbo’s Sting, and stabbed me quite deeply. I fought back, though my own sword, Rending, was strangely long and bendy. I stabbed a few times to fight off my attacker, but my sword was too bendy and wonky. Sting was hard and exacting as it thrust towards me…
Wow, I don’t read much into dreams, but it’s very rare I dream of weapons and violence. And the collision of Tolkien’s work and my own in the dream world was quite interesting to experience.
I quite enjoyed my read through of my first book. It stood up well to the test of time. Now onto my second, and we’ll see how it flows from one to the next.
But for now, I must finished my “Werewolves be bad, yo” short story. Deadline looms.
Thanks for reading.