Warning: Ceasing Production of Short Stories Will Result in Vivid Nightmares

I haven’t had this many vivid dreams for quite some time.

I’m wondering if it isn’t a byproduct of ceasing to write short stories, after a year of fervent crafting.

When I finished my first book, I found that I had a ton of creative energy to let loose, and I channeled it into the best sketch book I’ve ever produced.  It was interesting to ‘come down’ from writing a book, and I ended up with some excellent drawings from it.

But now; I’m not certain if the dreams are a direct result of my lack of writing.  If so, I’m not entirely opposed.  Certainly it would be an interesting side effect.

I will keep my descriptions of dreams to a minimum, I think.  Several of my previous posts note them, because those ones were notable.  I used to keep a dream journal; for a whole year I wrote down every single dream as soon as I awoke.  It led to noticing some interesting patterns.  For instance, I dream of bears more than any other animal, and I find myself shopping and choosing between items a surprising amount.

‘Weapons’ and ‘being shot’ is at the top of a list of extremely rare occurrences.  So is ‘fictional characters’.  So you see, the past few entries are of some note, having documented a whole year’s worth of dreams.

We’ll see what hounds of hell my mind lets loose this night.  As for just now (I just woke up), seeing London under twenty feet of water was most distressing.  I’m glad Scully was there though, we managed to get eachother out alive.

Your confused and shaken writer,


So I was shot in the back with an arrow last night…

So I was shot in the middle of my back with an arrow last night…

Movies don’t effect my dreams, not at all…  Agent Barton, I didn’t even have the pleasure of seeing you- that is, if it was you who let lose the arrow that stuck me right in the middle of my back.

It didn’t hurt, at least, not right away.  As I was telling my friends that maybe we should call an ambulance, I fell to my hands and knees as the poison started to kick in.

I had the most vivid sensation of it spreading, starting at my hands, all the way up my arms, through my chest, and down into my legs.  It totally messed with my equilibrium; as I tensed up on the ground, everything started going all tilty.

If you’ve ever had vertigo, which I have, you’l know that it’s very, very disconcerting to have the world feel like it’s on an angle, and moving.  To top it off, I had the feeling like I was going to fly up away from the earth.  I hung on for dear life.

It started hurting, and then the screaming started.  I’ve never screamed so loud in a dream before, but it was the weirdest thing- I don’t think I make a damn sound.  To everyone around me, I was silent, mouth agape.

So there I was, clutching the ground, mouth wide in agonized terror, with an arrow sticking out of the middle of my back.

Finally they got me into the back of an ambulance.  The paramedic pulled the arrow out of my back; but it’d had a special arrowhead, and it took a bunch of me with it.  There was a clump of weird spongy flesh, which was apparently inconsequential back tissue, but also, to my horror, the paramedic showed my a chunk of my stomach.  Again, screaming.

I finally managed to wake myself.  It had felt completely real, and the relief I felt upon realizing that it was only a dream was like plunging hands covered in acid into a neutralizing bath.  I almost cried, but managed to calm myself, enough even to go back to sleep.

Dreaming of my characters again…

Reading through the completed manuscripts of my Spell Carriers series has had an unintended side effect: I’m dreaming about them. This is way cool. Even the one where I was stalking a Trook through a house was way cool.

Last night it was Banhaks. He was coming home from being in prison for ten years.

So, basically, the beginning of book III. My gosh.

And I got to hug him, and it was awesome.

Good job brain.

Pleased but also terrified

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.

Heidi out.

Important Question Upon Waking

I awoke this morning wondering if there were giraffes that were unusually taller than other giraffes.

Sure brain, this is an important thing to try and figure out as you’re waking up.

I kept a dream journal for a year solid.  It took dedication; sometimes I wanted to relish waking up slowly, but I knew that doing so would cause the dreams of the night to waft into the ethers.  I wrote down every dream.  I have a book full of strangeness, which I bagan copying into a nice good copy, categorizing them (“Being Chased” and “Shopping” are the two most prevalent themes).

I think last night was my first dream about giraffes.  That’s all.

Tonight, I embark upon my vacation; Aaron and I are going camping on wonderful Keats Island.  Some friends are joining us.  We muster in downtown Vancouver today, then head to Gibsons to get our gear in order.  We’ll be catching a water taxi tomorrow morning to Plumpers Cove, a wonderful spot.

Games I’m hauling over there: our newly opened Harry Potter CCG, a deck of cards, Once Upon a Time (great storytelling game), possibly Race for the Galaxy, and Citadels.  We’re all about games when we camp.

Also on the menu: a book about cracking the Northwest Passage, Sno Crash, my sketch book, and writing journal (going to return with a piece or two ready to type out and submit).

Yesterday I submitted two pieces to Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader Flush Fiction: “Starship Engineers Make the Best of Friends” and “Zargnafs to Xebits”.  Both were fun to write, and I think people would enjoy them whilst using the washroom.  :}

So, I shall post again on Tuesday with news of Keats Island and Plumper Cove.

But for now, I shall go put all of my friend Ian’s belongings into a truck.  Seems everyone is moving these days…

Thanks for reading.

Heidi out.