Nothing like a little bit of pressure to get you motivated. Why is it that pushing up against a deadline, self-imposed or otherwise, sparks a need to produce? I should be going to bed now and trying to get some sleep (last night did not fare well in that category)… It’s not that I lack desire, passion, or inspiration. Creativity is abound – I am reek with it (lol… is that what that smells like…) I thought for a little break from the challenge I would look up something that might not have been posted just for comic relief. I found the following in “My Writing” file on the lap top and promptly began to read since it was exactly one year to date that I wrote it. I know that I am possessed by the same routine ink demons who dry up every once in a while only to resurface in a coagulation of words on the page. Eventually, I pull it all together. I just have to wait it out sometimes, all the while making little sense to anyone but myself. Unless, of course, you are a writer – then you might find this amusing, interesting, or slightly disturbed.
Dream – Awakening on January 29th 2014
There was a room where we (not sure all who was there) but a group of people coming in as if to meet. There was a door with a light switch to the right of it, an ornate looking carving with the mechanism for turning the light on and off in the centre of it. I remember commenting about how cool it was, liking it for the different look, but adjusting it allowed a whole panel of switches and choices to open up beside it. It took away from the ornate look and added a functional panel. I remember there being an adjustment for the lighting in the room, which was off to the left past a small alcove where this panel now was – I don’t know why I was in this room, but it just occurred to me as I write that this was the ending of the dream as I was leaving somewhere with bags of stuff and my cat(?) who actually came to me without chase. Back to the panel. There was an adjustment for lights in the room with a “health or illness” setting so you could brighten or dim the lights as required depending upon the use of the room.
I remember others crowding around to view the panel and poking at the functions, changing things rapidly and without reason. Just for fun. There was an opening at the top of the wall, almost like the wall didn’t meet the ceiling. I felt warm air, like a breath exhaled. I commented on it. Then I say a big hand at the top of the wall, its big fingers with long, pointed nails curled over the top of the wall panel.
Screaming ensued as there was now an opening that led behind the wall compartment. The creature (a very large man) attacked a woman. Someone said it was their aunt, don’t know whose. I remember a friend’s girlfriend was attacked, but she came running out, alive (Robin?). The large man then came out carrying the “aunt” on a rack like carrier, saying, “now I have to walk with the dead,” or something to that effect. He came back and approached me – I was not fearful of him, he knelt before me and I caressed the sides of his face, concerned for the reasons he might have had to become a murderer, why he lived behind the wall, and how the use of the panel perturbed him to the point of discovery and destruction.
WELL, that was different! Being a visual person, this dream really stood out and the intensity of the emotions was real. I am not sure what it means, or if, in fact, it means anything. Often I look for patterns in things that might not otherwise reflect a necessary order. I am consumed by my desire to take on more and more, yet continue to become overwhelmed and blocked up, awaiting the creative purge. It must be this pattern in me that is inevitably inspirational. So happy for the yellow pills. They make everything just a little less alarming.
So you might have noticed I threw in Day 22 (Inspirational) and Day 23 (Patterns) without even a warning. I will follow-up with some awesome pictures from last weekend – I am intrigued by the rhythm of nature.