Category: editing

The Party Bathroom Dream

I was young again – LOL – but middle-aged, and part of this large celebration.

Held outside, in a large green park, the party was to celebrate the birthday of someone famous. I have no idea who. Tables the length of football fields, covered in white tablecloths, set with dishware, china, and silverware, lined the park’s perimeter. Terrific food, cakes, sandwiches, veggies.

There were also numerous river-rock buildings which looked like shelters. These turned out to be restrooms.

Strangely, that’s where most of the dream focused: the bathrooms. I needed to use the restroom and spent my time dashing around, looking for one that was available. As I did, the Bob Seger song, “Shame on the Moon”, would play off and on. I mostly heard, “Oh, blame it on midnight.”

My friends found this hilarious. No one was in a uniform but people I worked with in the military were present, sitting in chairs in one section.

What I found as I searched for a restroom was that all of them were in use, and there were lines of others waiting.

I raced around, stunned at this problem, thinking, there must be a restroom I can use.

Thinking I found one, to my relief, I went in and discovered that it was set up as little barbershop. While I wondered, “WTH,” one of my friends called out with laughter, “Don’t even think about going there, Seidel.”

I flipped him the bird.

An announcement was made. Everyone was asked to take their seats. Miss Shirley Bassey was going to sing for the guest of honor.

I made my way across the grass toward a table.

Dream end.  

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Fascinating Dream: Aliens

It was a fascinating dream for me. When I awoke from it, I thought, I’d been watching a television show or movie. With a bit of surprise, I then realized I’d been in the dream, along with my wife and two children, which were my offspring. But I was both involved by watching as a minor character and sort of injected into some scenes.

My wife and children and I were tourists processing through some station. Aliens were there; sort of Klingon-like, in light grey blue uniforms with a jacket which has a deep red collar and a matching red shirt under it.

While traveling, all of us are stopped by these others who basically want to enslave us. It’s a troubling scene. I’m passive with my wife, not sure what will happen to us verses the others because we’re human and are supposed to have a different status. Nonetheless, we’re detained with the rest.

There’s then a scene where our captor and one of the captives go back and forth about what’s go be done in this cave where we’re being held. I realize that they’re having a disagreement over a matter of reference and perspective.

The captor keeps saying, ‘to your right’, and the other keeps saying, ‘that doesn’t make sense’. I then try to clarify that the captor is talking about the direction from the way he’s facing, while the captive is facing the opposite direction.

I end up getting up and pointing this out on a diagram they have posted on an easel.

We then ‘watch’ as captives are taken to another place to mine stuff. I don’t know what they’re mining. They make a show of it. I then suddenly realize that they’re secretly mining knowledge.

When the captive of before decides they’d learned enough, he reveals that he has a weapon. Shaped like an obelisk – really, just like a foot tall reproduction of the Washington monument, but shiny, silver-gold – the captive holds it up. Pressing a button, he sends a signal.

Suddenly, all these other dead, sleeping, and collapsed aliens awaken and rise. Each of them are equipped with a like obelisk. Using these, they overpower their captors.

As my wife and I watch, we realize that the revolution has begun.

Dream end.

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Four Microdreams

I had a series of flash microdreams last night.

In the first, I was editing/revising my manuscript, Unfocused. I awoke confused whether I’d been awake or asleep. Falling back asleep, I experienced the novel as a movie.

Another microdream slipped in. I reached for a green glass tumbler which had water in it. When I tasted it, it was coffee, but it stayed clear.

A man asked me to marry him. Then I thought it was me asking him. Then I thought, I’m both men.

Then I ate a chocolate chip muffin from a tray. Finishing it, I wanted more.

End

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Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

I was in the coffee shop — typing, revising, thinking, scrambling through the novel, noticing faults and fixing them. Progress was steady but heavy with challenge.

.Another customer approached my table. Regulars, she and I briefly spoke together a few times. Today she said, “Excuse me, but I love watching you at your table.”

Blinking, I gave her my attention.

She continued, “You become so deeply focused and oblivious to the rest of us, it just amazes me. I’m sorry to interrupt you but I really felt an itch to say something.”

I thanked her with a laugh. “Don’t worry. Interruptions can be helpful. Sometimes a little break is needed to help me think more clearly.”

We exchanged names, then she left the coffee shop, leaving me smiling.

Sometimes it feels good to be noticed as orders are called out, conversations rise and fall, and people come and go.

It feels…human.

1

The Writing Moment

I completed revising and editing the novel in progress. Gravity’s Emotions.

I wrote the novel I wanted. The story I wanted to read. As ‘they’ always advise and suggest. ‘They’ are the establishment. The writers who made it. The teachers who teach it. The editors who edit it, the publishers who print it, the agents who represent it. Of course, once the writer writes the novel they want, ‘they’ all take their turns on it. That’s the art, and the business. Then it gets to the readers.

Woo, boy.

My doubts have been kicking me, heaping scorn on my effort. Those doubts are always ready to jump on me. Doesn’t matter what’s going on. They are what they are.

“Your idea of inconsistent consistent inconsistency is ridiculous,” they growl. “It’s too complicated. Too surreal and too far out there. And the book is too big. That’s also a stupid title.”

“Thanks, guys,” I answer. Because there is no arguing with doubt. Let it come, beat you up, expend its energy, and walk away. Don’t engage your doubt. That’s what ‘they’ say.

The doubts do present legitimate points. The manuscript is an epic monster. 700 pages. Umpteen billion words. Lot of fun to write, edit, revise. Amazing that I wrote that thing in a few hours a day. I started it in July of 2024. I often ponder, HTF is that possible? It neatly slots into my thoughts about duality: it was at once hard work and a long time and a lot of hours, and not much time, not too difficult, and a lot of fun.

Meanwhile, the draft is being distributed to my small core of private readers. See what they think. Decisions will be set regarding their feedback. Then, into the submission maws.

While that’s all happening, another novel is already underway.

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Sunda’s Wandering Thoughts

I’m feeling très upbeat today. I’m not sure to what I attribute this mood. Maybe it’s just something in the stars and the moon. It could be coffee lifting my spirits, I suppose. I’ve also had very productive writing and editing sessions this week and immensely enjoy the novel in progress.

It might be sunshine. Loads of it washing through the wind waving trees. Maybe it’s just my hormones, some cycle, or due to the series of terrific dreams dropped on me while I slept.

Query: do the dreams cause the mood, or does the mood cause the dream. Feels like a chicken and egg thing.

Whatever it is, hope it stays a while. Such a terrific feeling, ya know?

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