Tag Archives: dreams

Books Can be Wonderful, Despicable, Life-Changing, and in Some Cases Down Right Diabolical. If You’re an Author, They’re all the Above.

I’m working on a new novel. On the one hand, I love every minute I put into it. On the other ,I’ve set the bar so high with twists, turns, numerous factions, dimensional travel, time travel, giant people, little people and a plethora of creatures, some good, most bad that the manuscript, at times, falls from my good graces. Each time I begin a new manuscript, my aim is to hold the reader’s attention, to draw them into the novel, and make them feel as though they are living the story along with the characters.

The closest thing I could compare it with would be a dream that faded into reality once you awoke. The world of writing is unique unto itself. You create worlds and characters that readers become passionate about, yet only exist in their minds. To take it one step further, each reader would have a slightly different conception of the same book. It gets to be mind-boggling if you give it too much consideration. A good book can be cathartic for the reader and author though not necessarily for the same reason. I can only go a day or two without writing; else I start Jonesing. That being said. I suppose my mission is clear.

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If You Dream Silly, Off The Wall, Nonsensical Dreams, Think About That Mess Before You Decide to Record It

originalWe all have dreams. I’m not one who puts stock that dreams mean anything other than what they are: either what we’ve done that day, seen on TV, or a thought we’ve stowed away in our subconscious that escapes that particular night.

I’ve never thought of turning one into any kind of blog, short story, etc., until now. We all know how real or muddy a dream can be. Well, hold on to your hats, sister, cuz I’m gonna take you for a ride.

First, allow me to set the stage: I’m traveling down a dirt road in my convertible El Camino. Behind me (in tow) is a thirty to forty foot boat. Beside me sits none other than old blue eyes himself, Frank Sinatra. (And less any rumors begin to circulate from this work of fiction; I am neither now nor have ever been a Sinatra fan.)

We’re cruising down the dirt highway and I run into a ditch. Now, when I say a ditch, I actually mean a six-foot deep twelve-foot wide rut that cuts a path straight across the road. I get out of my ride to survey the situation and calculate a solution. Wouldn’t you just know it that ole lazy bones (Frank) refuses to lend a hand in the operation? So as any good and respectable property owner should do, I lift the car in one hand and the boat in the other onto the opposite side of the road.

We continue down our dirt path which turns into a beach. What I assume are vacationers scatter, dive and jump to get out of the way as I motor across the sand. It’s at this point that the car turns into a rubber life raft. We travel under a pier and I find myself transitioning from sand to surf and finally over sea. (Did I mention the raft was flying?)

I look back and Frankie boy has abandoned ship and latched on to one of the pier columns. (Good riddance, I think. You haven’t contributed anything since you’ve been here.)

I continue on enjoying my flight over the ocean. The life raft begins to deflate, I spread my arms and resume my trek, bobbing, weaving, diving and the like. After a while, I decide I should return to shore before my ability to fly ends and I have no option but to ditch into the ocean.

Alas, this is where my capability to sail upon the winds in true human flight, comes to an end. My only solace comes from the picture of ole blue eyes latched ahold of a pier support, soggy, with a terrified look on his face.

You know, on second thought, maybe one should not record such things for others to read. It makes for unnecessary gatherings around the water cooler.

So, when you speak of me, please speak well.

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Daydream Believer

Daydream

Daydream (Photo credit: kudumomo)

Have you ever sat just daydreaming? Possibly about your past, your childhood, your dreams, or what you hoped to be when you reach adulthood?

Perhaps your present situation comes to mind–marriage to the love of your life; your offspring and the worries that just being a parent bring.

 One undisputed fact is that we are constantly facing the future. What wonders will it bring? Disappointment or a long time dream realized?

 As usual, my daydreams are reserved… maybe that’s the wrong word. Not so much reserved as they tend to pop up when I’m writing but what I’m writing about doesn’t necessarily dictate the content of the daydream itself. There are many lulls as I search my mind for just the right words to complete the particular paragraph I’m working on.

Occasionally while searching for an idea to continue my storyline, I’ll stumble upon a daydream door. Well now, how can I help but turn the knob and enter?

 Now, firmly entrenched in my world within a world, I am a small fellow with a towel tied around his neck, leaping tall buildings in a single bound, out racing speeding bullets, and just downright  saving the world.

 I have an uncle who’s name to the majority of the family is Larry; I call him Wayne. We were quite the pair (him being 13 years my elder) when we were coming up, especially after I reached my mid-teens. Nuff said! What the family don’t know; won’t hurt’em.

 Simply because of its comedic value, I think often of a story my uncle relayed to me. It seems that when he was but a wee lad, during a “reach for the sky,” gun-slinging incident, he backed off the tool-shed roof allowing the dirty hombres to escape!

 For the most part, daydreams can be a welcome respite from the daily grind; however, there are instances when slipping into that midday coma is not recommended.

 Case in point:

 I recall one particular day during my eighth grade math class. If memory serves me correctly, I entered the classroom with my usual eagerness to learn, just brimming with excitement. I made my way to my desk, giddy with the thought of mathematical equations I would soon be able to solve.

 Readying myself for the start of class, I snuggled into my desk to become as comfortable as possible in order to be receptive to the magical problems the teacher would bring that day. To make a long story short, the teacher’s soothing words on such an interesting topic pushed me past the daydream state directly into a sound sleep. The next thing I knew; I was having a rude awakening by way of my snoring. The class was chuckling as the teacher made her way toward my well rested body with flames of passion in her eyes. Needless to say, I still retain the same love for mathematics as I did then.  Please pardon me while I yawn…

In conclusion, enjoy your daydreams. They’re just another way to embrace pleasant memories of your past and create, of a virtual nature, pleasant memories yet to come.

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Just Tell Me Why!

Marin MTB

Marin MTB (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We have all heard, and in most cases used, catchy phrases and cliques.  We have also chuckled at the strange names we apply to everyday occurrences, such as parking on driveways and driving on parkways.

I would like to talk to you about actual objects that bother me insofar as to how and why they were created.  Let’s consider all of the preceding comments and questions to be rhetorical.

Let’s start with the only one we will discuss today that is not an actual thing that can be held or even seen.  I am speaking of the dream.  When we dream at night we simply call it….a dream.  When we have a bad dream at night we call it….a nightmare.

During the day when we lose ourselves staring off into space thinking of anything other than what we’re doing, we call it….daydreaming.  If we happen to take a nap during the daylight hours and dream we call it….a dream.  If we happen to take a nap and have a bad dream we still call it…. a dream.

I would suggest to you whatever happened (not that it ever existed) to the daymare?  Once again to quote a legend in his own time, “and that’s all I’ve got to say about that.”

Next comes the microwave door.   Why do they always open to the left?  I have two microwaves in my home.  The doors on each one open to the left and they are the most inconvenient things to load and unload due to having to walk around the door after it is opened.   Ditto on my last quote.

Now this one is going to somewhat throw you because there really isn’t another choice, at least when this substance was first conceived.  I’m talking about glass.  We build our homes with walls which are made of wood covered in more wood or masonry.  We put special locks and deadbolts on our doors for extra protection.   After all of these precautions to prevent unwanted entry, we cover our windows with a material that could be totally destroyed with a pebble.  Nowadays they do have laminated glass that you can’t beat through with a baseball bat, but most residences still use the brittle substance, that although lets the sunshine in, is subject to letting in unwanted nasties and things that go bump in the night or even the day.

Now for the crème de la crème.  What could possibly possess someone to design a girl’s bicycle with a downward sweeping top rail and then turn around and design a boy’s bicycle with a nut cracker bar where no bar should be.  If you’re a male and have ever come to a sudden stop on one of these deadly machines you know what I mean.

To conclude this post as I normally try to do (somehow tie it into writing) if you’re a male author and you like to ride bikes, wear a cup!  I find it’s much easier to write when I’m not in pain.

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