To Sleep...Perchance to Dream

Have you ever had a dream that’s so vivid and clear that, when you wake up, you’re disorientated for a brief moment and find yourself wondering which is the real world?

I’m sure you have. I’m sure, at some point, everyone has a dream like this. After all, if you watch the movie “Inception,” that’s pretty much the entire premise.

It’s amazing the landscapes our slumbering minds can create. We get to go places in our dreams that we’d never be able to go in reality. Reality is twisted and distorted and everything is possible.

I had one of those dreams last night. I won’t bore you with the details because our dreams are never as exciting to others as they are to us. I think it’s because while we’re dreaming, we feel like it’s real and, when we awaken, we still have the sense that something happened, even if it was just the makings of our subconscious mind.

The hard part about dreams is that they slip away from us. We can try to hold on to them but, over time, though we remember the main component of what happened, we don’t remember the tiny details that made it so vivid that we woke up feeling strangely exhilarated and as if we’d actually experienced them.

I try to write down dreams like this. I do it as soon as I can after waking so I can remember as much as I possibly can before it fades away, a distant whisper of something we dreamed but never as alive as it was upon waking.

The interesting thing is to go back and read about those dreams a few years later. I actually had a dream journal where I tried to capture the essence of the most vivid of my dreams. I read it recently and rereading them, I’m often amazed at the things my sleeping brain devised. I might remember having the dream but reading the details amazes me.

The one I had last night was like that. To some people, it would be alarming. To me, it was fascinating. Essentially (and without the too boring details), it involved an apocalypse, a Beast, me selling my soul to Satan in order to become a powerful demon who was immortal.

The thing I remember most is the detail of the dream. Even now, I can pinpoint the moment in the dream where I made the choice to sell my soul. It sounds weird and twisted but I’m fascinated that my subconscious was able to make it so realistic and actual. There was panic in the dream, mass chaos and lots of fear. Then there was an otherworldliness to the Hell my brain created and the exhilaration of feeling power and control.

(Note to people who know me: I promise I’m not contemplating a change in faith or becoming a satan worshipper. My brain is just a bit odd when I sleep. And when I’m awake. But that’s another story).

Granted, if you’re familiar with my book, The Reluctant Demon, demons and Hell aren’t exactly a stretch of my imagination. Since I just finished the sequel, Emmy Goes To Hell, it’s not even a surprise that I can visualize Hell since that’s entirely what composes the framework of that book.

However, the Hell of my subconscious was far scarier and, dare I say it, than the Hell my sleeping brain concocted. The demon I became was nothing like the demons I made up in my book. There were processes in my dream Hell that were surprisingly logical: I had to get baptized into the name of Satan, eat some form of offal and have dinner with Satan himself.

Naturally, as a writer, I’m quite fascinated. It’s like my brain wanted to write a new story, something darker and creepier than the comedic effort I just composed. If I had to analyze it, it’s probably due to the fact that I wrote my demon books to try something lighter and new but I’ve missed the dark and twistier tone I usually use. This was my brain’s attempt to reconcile what I actually did with what I subconsciously wanted to do.

This is not to say I don’t like the books I wrote. I do. I think they inject a little darkness into the chick-lit genre while still keeping a somewhat light tone. My heroine has trials and tribulations but she’s intrepid and determined and is never really in any danger. It would be a different book if she didn’t make it out of Hell but got stuck there forever. It definitely wouldn’t be a romantic comedy, would it?

It’s just that, well, danger is exciting, isn’t it? It’s thrilling and it makes things interesting as long as it ends well.

I think my next book needs to have a little more danger and darkness. I think my dream was my mind’s way of reminding me that while it’s fun to create fluffier things, what I really enjoy is a dark and twisty tale where my heart pounds a little and I never quite know if my hero/heroine will make it out intact.

Whatever the reason, I have to admit, I was disappointed to wake up this morning, even if it was to a puppy frantically trying to wake me up so I’d let her go outside to do her business. I felt a strange let down because I would never find out the end of my dream-tale. Dreams are not like DVR’s where you can resume the spot in the TV show where you left off and they’re not like books where you can bookmark a page and jump right back into the story.

Instead, dreams are an amazing place that’s always different and you never, ever know where you’ll end up when you lay down to sleep.

You just go along for the ride.

Happy Friday!

Wishing Harry Potter Spells Really Worked....

It is unbelievably amazing how quickly weekends fly by. One minute, I'm getting off work on a Friday evening and the next thing, I'm groggily reaching for my alarm on Monday morning, putting it on snooze in hopes that that extra 9 minutes of sleep will refresh me enough so that getting out of bed isn't so hard.

Of course, the snooze button never helps. More than anything, it's a taunting reminder that you do have to get up for something and no matter how many times you hit it, you still eventually have to get up otherwise you wouldn't be hitting it in the first place.

I hit my snooze button just once today and I still feel like I'd rather be sleepily lying under my covers, not having to get up. That happened on Saturday morning. I forgot to turn off my alarm and it went off and for one brief, disoriented minute I began to mentally prepare for the workday before I realized with absolute delight and joy that it was, in fact, Saturday and I didn't have to get up for a while.

Now I'm up, I'm still trying to figure out what happened to the weekend. I did spend Friday night cleaning the house in preparation for my parents' visit. I had planned on mowing the grass but, alas, a big thunderstorm put the damper on that. I spent Saturday morning cleaning my apartment. By the time they arrived, both my 'residences' were as clean as they were going to get.

I'm happy to report my parents approved of the house. They poked around, checked everything out and seemed to find no massive issues which was a huge relief, I have to say. My dad even installed a new cable outlet in my office for me so that I could run the internet in there. He's good like that. It turned out to be a really fun day. Even now, in my mid-thirties, I still crave approval from my parents and having them give the nod to my first home felt really...nice.

Naturally, I spent yesterday at the house too. I ended up mowing the grass. After two mowings, I can safely say I am not a fan of mowing. For one thing, it takes too long. I put one of those grass-catchy bags on the back of my mower but had to empty it every five minutes. I finally gave up on it. Then, of course, I looked over at my neighbours' yard. Their grass is that perfect shade of green, a nice length and not a grass clipping in sight. I felt compelled to rake up my clippings but then..what do do with them? My neighbours don't have a grass pile anywhere in sight. I'm baffled. I now have a massive pile of grass clippings. My grass looks nice but I have a feeling eventually, I might have have a grass mountain in a couple of weeks.

I still want to know what my neighbours do with their clippings. That's weird, right? I mean, I saw them mowing and it looked like they were cutting the grass but where'd the grass go? Maybe it's like a Harry Potter spell...all the grass is magically 'poofed' away as its cut.

Or maybe I just have an overactive imagination. Even so, I want a Harry Potter spell to get rid of my clippings. I think "Evanesco", the vanishing spell would work nicely.

Aside from mowing the grass and raking it, I didn't get too much accomplished. I did go exploring a little to find a Kroger. On the way, I passed a little "British" pub. I say "British" in quotes because though it says its an English pub and it has an English pub-y name, I looked at the menu online and, well, it's not that British. They have lots of British/European beers but with the exception of fish and chips, there's not a nod to British cuisine at all. There are a lot of burgers and bar-food but no bangers and mash, bubble and squeak, Welsh Rarebit or British breakfast. Nevertheless, at least there is a pub of sorts fairly nearby which is pretty nice in these parts.

I eventually found the Kroger though for some reason, my GPS (aka "satan") decided to take me on the scenic route. Sometimes she does that, even though I tell her I want 'fastest time'. Sometimes, I think she leads me on wild goosechases just because she gets annoyed that I call her satan. When I drove to our conference in Indianapolis, she took us by the hotel that was our destination about three times, telling us it was on the right. Turns out it was on the left but we were so focused on listening to her, we didn't see it. I could almost hear her laughing at us. I can't help it that, on occasion, her upbeat, annoying calm voice changes to the gravely, deep overtones that I would assign to a demon or figure of the underworld. Maybe she/he's cross that I don't give him/her more respect. I suppose I should, I mean satan is still trying to give me directions but it's hard to follow them because, frankly, the shock of hearing the voice usually takes over and I stop listening to directions. Also, I think satan needs a translator because I can't often understand him. He slurs, you see.

Nevertheless, even though GPS lady did take me the long way to Kroger, at least she didn't transform into satan yesterday. In fact, for the most part, I had a very pleasant drive through the area. It's nice to go exploring and see the possibilities for things to do, places to eat, places to shop, etc. Yet, there'll be plenty of time to explore once I've moved permanently.

As long as the grass doesn't need to be mowed. Evanesco clippings!

Yeah. That never works in real life. Doesn't mean I won't keep trying though.

Happy Monday.

The Voice of a Possessed GPS...

It's sunny again today. The storm clouds have dissipated and the sky is the clear, cold blue of a chilly winter morning. We had a few storms yesterday including a flash of lightning that seemed to go in one window of our office and out the other. The electrical falsh was so intense that it almost felt tangible. Even when the thunder and lighting and rain left, the winds remained, howling and intense as it rattled at my window.

I walked outside in the wind. I was going for my weekly Lost viewing at my friend's house. She lives in the same apartment complex as me and it takes about five minutes to get there. The wind was so strong I had trouble standing up straight on the way there, it took my breath away literally. It's amazing how spooky a dark and stormy night really is. I tend to have an overactive imagination anyway and in the dark, shadowed, windswept world, there were plenty of scenerios that crossed my mind.

At one point, I passed a motorcycle. It's been covered harmlessly with a tarp everytime I've passed by before. Last night, however, that tarpaulin seemed alived, rattling and billowing and forming shapes that my mind decided should be alarming. At one point, out of the corner of my eye, it looked like a giant dark wolf was watching me.

There was a piece of overhang from the roof of one of the buildings I passed. It tapped at the building in the strong wind, threatening to be torn off and go sailing into the darkness. Because I've seen too many of those teenage horror movies in which someone inevitably gets decapitated by such debris, I was in quite a hurry to move past that, lest it come flying towards me.

After I'd watched Lost and was walking back to my building, the wind blew behind me. I felt as though an enormous hand were shoving me quickly towards my destination, urging me forward to get me out of the night. I wasn't about to argue. It was probably my imagination but I liked the idea of being assisted through the darkness, away from whatever twisted and turned in the wind. That piece of roofing was still tapping but seemed to be looser.

I let that giant hand of bluster push me home quickly. After witnessing my GPS seemingly become possessed by dark forces on Saturday of last week, I wasn't taking any chances.

I didn't tell you about that, did I? Last weekend, on my way to Jungle Jim's, I stopped at a carwash. It was a warm, clear day, the snow had all melted leaving a film of grime and salt on my car. I decided to clean Car off. The carwash was was about a mile from Jungle Jim's. Now, in my car, I have two of those cigarette lighter plug thingies. In one, I have an iPod transponder that allows me to play my iPod through my car stereo. In the other, located in my glove compartment, I have another, into which my GPS was plugged. My GPS has no connection to the outside, no antenna; nothing to get wet.

Everything seemed normal. I love carwashes and this was one of those nifty ones with a track that takes you through without you having to drive. That was fun. When I drove out of the carwash, I turned towards Jungle Jims. And that's when I heard it, the dark voice of a possessed GPS.

You know those reel-to-reel tape things they had back in 'the old days'? And how you could speed them up so that everyone sounded like Alvin and his chipmunks or slow them down so Satan himself seemed to be speaking to you? Yes, the latter is exactly how my GPS sounded. Suddenly, the simple directions of "turn left onto Dixie Highway" sounded significantly less like directions and much more like a threat.

You might think I was alarmed. Well, actually....yes, I was. However, I decided to try to take control of the situation. After all, I was driving a car. Panic would have been bad. Instead, I talked to GPS and said something along the lines of, "um, Satan? Is that you? Would you mind giving me my GPS lady back?" GPS did not obey. The super-slowed, deep and ominous tones of my new GPS guide continued to try to guide me. He's a bit hard to understand, actually. He sounds like he's got an entire set of pool balls in his mouth. I knew where Jungle Jim's was at this point but I wasn't about to have my GPS lady taken down by this odd newcomer.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I unplugged my GPS and turned it on and off. After a few moments, my GPS lady was back. I don't know if I managed to banish the demonic posessor but he seemed to have gone. I won't say that I'm not wary of him coming back but at least I can understand my GPS now and I don't feel...wrong for listening to it giving me directions.

Of course, it did make my drive more interesting, I will say that. I think it might be fun to actually program GPS units to have different voices. I know some of them can do different accents and speak in different languages but it might be fun to have, say, Batman give you directions. Better yet, it'd fun to program personalities into them so that maybe if you went the wrong way, Christian Bale could yell at you and tell you that taking a wrong turn was f***ing distracting. Now THAT would be awesome.

But I digress. What's new? Anyway, back to my original musings. It's still windy this morning but it's just strong gusts, not a howling windstorm. We lost power for about a minute, long enough to make me have to reset my clocks but no long enough to be more than a nuisance. Even with all the rain we had yesterday, my GPS is sounding like her old self which is interesting given that the last time my car was that wet, she, um, went away. She's been back for a while but I tell you, the next time a demon takes over my GPS, I'm recording it somehow, just to prove I'm not crazy.

I always need a little proof of that.

Happy Thursday.