Dreams and memories
Artist: Ralph I Steeds
Have you ever had a memory surface, and for the briefest of moments you could swear it was a real memory, or snippet from some book or movie you’d just enjoyed? Once the moment is over, though, you realize the memory was actually from a dream. This happens to me all the time. Sometimes, my dreams are about people at work and everyday sort of things. When they are that ordinary it takes a little time to realize that the events I so clearly remember never actually happened, I had only dreamed it. The memories/dreams that bother me the most are those where I’ve had a fight with my husband but only in my dream. I wake up very angry with him, and there’s nothing I can do about it. After all, in the real world he had done nothing wrong.
Most of my dreams tend toward the fantastical, though. These are the dream memories I think are a part of a book or movie. I tend to come to the realization that it was only a dream with a slight sense of loss. The fact that it was only a usually means I will never be able to revisit that world or find out what happens. Of course, if I had the luxury of sitting down and writing out my dreams the moment I wake up, I could maybe learn more about the world my subconscious has created.
For a long time now, I’ve been hoping to have another one of those dreams that would be interesting enough to perform a writing experiment. I’ve tried to write up my dreams before in order to develop a story (for snippets you need only look through this blog’s previous posts) but I have a terrible time translating them to paper. This is usually because I’ve left too long before I put pen to paper, but mostly because I try to force the dream to follow a linear narrative. I want to try and write up my next dream the way I remember it with the twists and turns and changes in identity that is so common in dreams.
I’m curious if anyone else has had this or a similar experience. I’d love to hear from you to reassure myself I’m not alone in this!
International Diplomacy story
I had a dream recently that was really awesome. I could picture this international political drama making a great movie especially with the renewed role that diplomacy has attained with the Obama Administration. I am treating this post as a way to get my ideas down for later research and expansion into perhaps a novel. I apologize in advance if this post seems disjointed as a consequence.
My story takes place at an international diplomats conference (don’t know if these things exist so obviously some research is needed) where my protag, a young Indian woman or perharps from somewhere in the Middle East, is a junior diplomat attending this conference perhaps for the first time. She believes that diplomacy can make a difference with all the vigor of someone who is either very naive or very young or both. She meets with an older diplomat, who has been discredited or at least is no longer listened to. He (second protag) has an idea on how to solve a particular crisis in an imaginary country that is in turmoil from either a civil war or an invading country. He believes he could trick on particular dictator by playing on his vanities or sense of irony into providing support in ending the conflict. I remember my main protag (I need to research names!) trying to sell this idea to the senior members of her delegation with all this awesome diplomat speak. I am so bummed that I cannot remember what it was she said. Anyway, she manages to sell the idea. They start to put the plan together and are executing it. Phone calls are being made, information is being gathered. My main protag is in her element, she is totally jazzed. Unfortunately, this is when the alarm goes off.
I’m thinking there needs to be an expansion on these few scenes. Right now it’s just a short story really. I could get maybe 25k-30k words. I’m thinking I can add a few hurdles and twists into the situation. The main focus though will be on my two protags, one being redeemed the other growing up with the crisis as a back drop. I will have to do a lot of research on this before I can even start. I know nothing about the UN, diplomats, international crises, dictators or small African or Middle Eastern nations real or imagined. I don’t know enough about how women are viewed in diplomatic circles, or how a woman from that region would reach the level of diplomat. I have to admit I am daunted by the task in front of me, but I am a little thrilled with the idea. Wish me luck!
NaNoWriMo 2008
So I mentioned a little while ago that I had a story idea I wanted flesh out which was in part inspired by Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book. I had almost forgotten about it. However, after receiving a great bit of news from NaNoWriMo’s Chris Baty about the 2007 winners (which I was, thank you very much!), I realized that the sequel I had in mind for The Rising could take a back seat to, Betti Jo the murderess. I know the name is a terrible pun on the girl-next-door theme, but I can’t think of anything. It’s the name that fits this blonde bombshell from a tiny (and I do mean tiny), slightly sinister town who murders a boy and comes back to hide from what she’d done.
I dreamed this story up, of course. My dreams seem to be the sole origin of most of my stories lately.
Betti Jo (short for Bettina Josephine) is the darling of her small town. There’s an understanding that she will marry Luke Wilson, the son of the “wealthiest” family in town. His father owns the mechanics shop and his uncle owns the general store along with most of the plots of land in town. Betti Jo is not overly happy with the situation. She’s the only one of the kids her age in town who was allowed to attend and nearly graduate from high school. She’s smart but inexperienced. She does not understand the ways of the world outside her small town. She meets Michael, the football hero from the neighboring town. He promises her the world and then some if she would agree to run away with him. She agrees, telling her folks she was eloping with Michael. This next part is a little vague. Something happens and Betti Jo is forced to kill Michael. Police don’t find enough evidence to pursue any suspects and drop the case. Betti Jo essentially has gotten away with murder. She returns home in shame. Luke’s pride won’t let him approach her, and believing herself damaged goods or at least not good enough for Luke she avoids him. She loses the respect of the townsfolk and with it her status. She is reduced to the role of flighty and unitelligent daughter of a respected family.
Enter, David, Betti Jo’s newest conquest (at least in the eyes of the town). She was allowed to go to the community college even after the Michael Incident. She meets David there and comes home to introduce him as her fiance. The townsfolk are suspicious. David gets a feeling that there is something not quite right about the town.
This is where it takes a strange turn in my dream. The townsfolk are not quite human. I haven’t figured out how it will work in the book yet, but in my dream they are ghosts. Not all of them, just the elders.
There that’s it; the basic premise. I finally got it written/typed, so I can refer to this come November 1. Wish me luck!
The Graveyard Book
The first novel by Neil Gaiman that I have read cover to cover, The Graveyard Book, is absolutely wonderful. I read Gaiman’s Journal on a regular basis and have come to love his writing “voice”. That voice was apparent in this his latest published book. Reading about the writing process excited me and made me want to read it. When my husband spotted it at the library about a week ago, I had to bring it home. I read it in a few hours and refused to put it down even though it was after my bed time.
Bod is a curious child, craving knowledge of the world, books, and the metaphysical which is unsurprising considering he was raised by a ghost couple and a vampire, and on occasion taught by a werewolf. He is pursued his entire life by a man named Jack who was responsible for the death of his entire family when he was only a year old.
A darkly humorous coming-of-age novel, often compared to The Jungle Book, this is a must read for both children and adults whether your a fan of Gaiman’s other work or not.
This novel has definitely inspired another story, which I dreamed of last night. I will posting about that later. Perhaps it will be my NaNoWriMo contribution this year instead of a sequel to The Rising.
More vivid dreams
I am enjoying having all these dreams come to me especially when I can actually remember them. The other night I had another dream that brings to mind another story idea or perhaps plot point for an existing work. It could work for either Shawna Bell or the High Priestess one I posted about previously. Anyway, it was a much more personal dream featuring yours truly and husband along with either my family or our friends on a road trip of some kind. At some point I become very ill with a terrible fever that lasts three days. Throughout the fever, I can remember my husband at my side perhaps alternating briefly with one of the other passengers. I don’t think it was my family after all. If I’d been traveling with my mom, she would be the one by my side with my husband standing nearby feeling helpless. Anyway, I remember when the fever finally breaks, that every time I came to he would be there to take care of me. This prompted the idea to include as part of the memoirs a time when Shawna becomes very ill and Mrs. Bell has to attend to her. However, now that I think about the High Priestess story, it could be a very touching back story between High Priestess Alera and Captain Alina or the scene after they escape from the approaching soldiers. They would have to escape, how else would the story progress? Anyway, which would you vote for:
Shawna Bell and Mrs. Bell
Alera and Alina back story
Alera and Alina post escape
If anyone out there reads any of this tripe, leave your vote in the comments. I figure for the 3 people who will at some point read this post, why bother finding an actual poll? I appreciate any feedback in any case.
I might use it for both stories, who knows. Oh and any title ideas for the priestess story would be helpful. I hate calling it that right now, but nothing else seems to come to mind.
Dreams and story ideas
I was having a very intense and wonderful dream this morning. It feels like the beginning of a great story or the beginning of a rip-off from another story I read in the past. I cannot be sure. I know that while I dreamed, I was possessed with the conviction that I had indeed read what I was seeing before. When I awoke, however, the only element that I know is from a dream is the betrayal of a female authority figure (in my dream, I could not be sure if she was a queen or a high priestess). That’s straight out of Kushiel’s Chosen.
Anyway, this is the raw version of what I remembered from my dream (ok maybe not “raw.” I feel a story here):
A cheering crowd sits on benches surrounding an arena. Beyond the arena floor, opposite the crowd sits a woman, her expression serene. A face whose beauty hides the steel in her black-eyed gaze. Her raven hair is swept up into a severe knot while silk, miniature cherry blossoms spill around her head to soften her face, feathering around her alabaster brow. Her iridescent pink gown is covered by matching stole flowing to her knees. Two men stand at either side, gilded iron face plates giving nothing of their expressions away. In the ceremonial body armor, they appeared quite fierce but in fact quite vulnerable. The soft gold metal would give easily under a direct attack. Behind her stood her honor guards, in flexible armor best suited for closed in combat.
High Priestess Alera fanned her self idly her mind on other matters as the match played out below her. Something kept bothering her. She knew there was more to these rumors. She just could not pinpoint the issue entirely. A slow murmur traveled through the crowd as a skirmish broke out near the gates. Her honor guard stepped forward to surround her, blocking her view of the crowd. She sighed as she stood and followed them behind the Lily Box to the security passage hidden in the recess. Alera picked up the sense of urgency from her guards as she realized that the skirmish had broken out into the arena and amongst the soka players.
“We must make haste, Your Grace,” her Captain murmured close to her ear.
“Yes, of Course, Alina,” Alera whispered in returned.
