Writing dreams

They just. won’t. let me. alone.

All those thoughts about writing that get translated into bizarre dreams.

Last night I dreamt that I was in a house where I’d invited some very unlikely people to live with me. I discovered it was a bad idea, so I decided to move to an apartment I would share with more congenial occupants.

But everything thwarted my move: I couldn’t get a truck, then I decided to walk, then my phone wouldn’t display a map… Despite all this, I eventually found it, in a rather run-down neighborhood on the Lower East Side. A strange vintage bicycle/car blocked the entrance, and I got some help to move it, finally ready to go through the gate into the courtyard and see my room.

Then I woke up.

Clearly, my brain knows I’m looking for a story and getting muddled up and sidetracked. I’ll let you know when the dream changes, and I’m ready to write.

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