Category: Uncategorized

The Typist

I sit down to write each day with little idea of what’s going to happen. This terrifies me.

Then I read a sentence or two of what I’ve written the day before, sometimes a little more, and the story takes off. In the space of ninety minutes to two hours, I’ll add two to three thousand more words, then stop and edit a little. Few changes are required; the story is coming to me so fully complete, I’m just the typist.

I know where and how the story started and where it’s supposed to be going. I lack all clues about how to get it there. I just followed the muses. They’ve presented this character that I don’t understand. He’s erratic. I know the reasons he’s erratic, as more of his backstory comes to me after I’ve written about him. After I write, I walk away and think, why did he do that? What’s wrong with him? He’s so inconsistent, I worry about it; I want to fix that, and make him consistent. But I suspect that if I attempt to fix him, he’ll just stop and the muses will walk away.

So…I let it ride, accepting my role as typist. The story sometimes entertains me, but more often baffles me. I’m writing mostly to see what happens next.

It’s a weird, odd role, being the typist. I know some writers insist that what I’m describing is complete bullshit, muses and characters don’t just take over.

Yeah, but here I am, with my coffee, about to do it again. It really is writing like crazy. It’s gotten me to seventy-seven pages so far. Guess I’ll just hang on and try to enjoy the ride.

Onward.

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A Food Dream

Don’t recall what was going on earlier in this dream – it’s all hazy and splintered – but I reached a point where I sat down to eat. 

It was dark, with strings of colored lights overhead. I was seated at a long table with many other people. (I seemed to know them all but didn’t recognize anyone from my life.) Someone set a plate down in front of me. On it was this huge, loaded cheeseburger, along with a salad, and some onion rings. Laughing and talking with others, I took a big bite. OMG, it was so good. I was very happy.

Then, in a dream shift, eating was over. I was in another room, my wife beside me. Sitting in a little conversation nook, we were chatting with friends (no one from my rea world). My wife and I jumped up and suggested that we take their girls to get ice cream. The friends were surprised. They asked their daughters if they wanted to go. The little girls declined.

My wife and I went out and got ice cream. Sitting down on a brick wall in sunshine, we began eating, but we were disappointed that the little girls didn’t come. As I was eating my berry-flavored ice cream, I saw one of the little girls. She was inside, watching through a window. I went back in and asked her if she wanted ice cream.

The dream ended.

I was ravenous when I woke up. Still am.

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A Warning, Accommodations, and A Confrontation

In this dream, I was with others, all men, people that I knew in the dream, but no one from my current life. We were in a yellow two story building. No other details about the building, people, or our purpose surfaced.

In some sort of power position, but not in charge, I was listening to a man describe what he was doing to set up a warning system. It amounted to, he had set up someone to be a look-out; that look-out would notify another, who would then light a warning beacon. It seemed to be weather related.

I asked, “You have established an alternative for him in case he’s not available, haven’t you?” I was pretty insistent about it. The man wouldn’t answer me. I knew that he didn’t have alternatives identified but didn’t want to admit it. I felt it as a severe shortcoming and gave the guy in charge a look of admonishment, because he needed to do something about this.

Next, I was told about arrangements that’d been made. We were accommodating two other men. They wanted to get together but there wasn’t anywhere private for them. The downstairs porch had been closed in, I was informed, so they could meet down there.

I went down to check it out. The two men, a black, and a white blond guy, both in short-sleeved shirts, were slow-dancing. I apologized for interrupting and told them that I was checking on the arrangements for them to ensure they were good.

They stopped their slow dancing (there wasn’t any music, btw) and separated. It seemed like they were embarrassed. Meanwhile, checking the facilities, I discovered it was colder than expected; a light layer of snow covered parts of the floor. Seeing snow flurries drifting in, I followed them until I found the source, a rectangular hole in the cement ceiling. That needed to be fixed, I decided, and resolved that it would be done.

Others came in. I was talking with one man, a tall Asian wearing glasses. We were having a disagreement. I don’t know what it was about, but I was telling him to do one thing and he was refusing.

He hit me, so I punched him. He began walking away. I grabbed him. He hit me again. Angered, I took a sawed-off two by four and slammed it into his face.

I hit him harder than I’d planned and was shocked at what I’d done. Immediately contrite, I apologized again and again. He looked shock but said nothing.

The dream ended.

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A Tail Tale

Both were big. Who could say which was bigger, the black and white long-haired with the damaged eye and big paws, or the heavy black short-hair with the white diamond on his chest?

Each cleared nineteen pounds on their last check, and could be over twenty now. While the long-haired had oversized paws, the house panther had tiny feet and ran with mincing steps. The long haired was Tucker. He sported a thick, long, all-black tail.

The panther was Boo. Tailless for reasons not known to his current people, he had issues. He didn’t trust other cats, other people, or loud noises, and was adverse to wind, rain, and unusual smells.

Neither liked the other. To be fair, neither liked other animals (except the small female tortie from next door, who both courted from a cautious distance), and were ready for a fight. Didn’t go looking for it, mind you, but if it came, they were stepping up to it.

Which made the moment fraught with tension.

Tucker was on a dining room chair. His long tail was hanging off the side. It swung from side to side, its tip testing the directions. Inner thoughts, perhaps about sleeping or eating (he was fond of both) seemed to occupy him, for he sat, doing nothing, looking at nothing, ears settled as though they listened to nothing.

Amber eyes wide, Boo approached from behind. Seeing the tail, he couldn’t resist. Walking up to it, he sniffed and sniffed and sniffed, moving to sniff its tip as the tail moved around.

The tail stopped moving.

Tucker’s head snapped around with realization, someone was sniffing his tail.

Boo’s head jerked up. Caught. 

Twisting around, he minced away fast on his tiny feet.

Tucker stared at the vacated space. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes.

His tail began moving around, testing new directions.

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Puzzle #10 of 2020

We began puzzle number ten of 2020 today, the bright red Corvette. Sixty by eighty-five centimeters and fifteen hundred pieces, it’ll be a decent challenge, one that will require us to be Zen: to solve the puzzle, we must be the puzzle.

 

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