Thursday, April 06, 2006
Dream a Little Dream
I've been dreaming a lot lately. Not quite sure why. But they've been real doozies. One night last week I dreamt that I let Baby Girl walk by herself in a parking lot (for the first time), ended up fighting with her at the door to the store because she didn't want to come inside, and watched her get run over by a car backing up. Needless to say I was unsettled when I woke up.
Another night this week I dreamt that a man broke into our house. He didn't want money, our electronics, even DH's guns. Nope. He wanted the stickers off our TV remote. Not all of the remotes mind you. Just one.
Don't ask me. I have no idea.
I can understand the one about my baby girl. She's growing up and starting to become more and more independent. It's understandable for mothers to have difficulty with those first steps. I've nursed her, fed her, clothed her and bathed her for almost two years. And now my angel wants to brush her own teeth, put on her own shoes, and go to the potty by herself. Apparently my subconscious is having a few more issues with this than I realized.
The remote guy defies logic.
Most of the time I don't pay much attention to my dreams. They're there. Unlike some people, I usually remember mine when I wake up but the memories are promptly whisked away by hungry girls, children to dress and a schedule to keep.
Every once and a while one sticks with me though. And those I pay attention to. Either because they hold some important meaning for my life or because they involve my story (or a potential story). I don't know how many times I've unraveled the solution to a plot problem I'd been working on in a dream.
I'll never forget the night I woke up from a dream where my hand was cut across the palm. All I remember was the blood seeping everywhere and the need to find someone to help get me to the doctor, a huge sense of urgency. I remembered this dream because it was so personal (it was like I was watching it happen to myself). It took me almost four hours where the vision would pop back into my mind for no apparent reason before I realized it was a clue. That night I wrote a scene where my bakery store owner heroine cut her hand afterhours chopping chocolate (while thinking about the hero) and the hero, whose computer store was next door, took her to the emergency room. It was the perfect setting to put them into - my independent heroine having to rely on this man for help. And this man who wanted no responsibilities was suddenly thrust into caring for this woman he'd been trying to ignore.
I've been more aware of my dreams the last several days - perhaps its because I'm waiting for a stroke of genius to show up and provide me that perfect scene that will become the cherry on the top of the book I'm working on. It's great the way it is but we all know how writers can be....I can't help thinking I can always make it better.
So what do you dream about? And do you believe dreams hold any significance for us?