Linsey's Blog

Experiment in Wordpress blogging…

“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley . . . ” or someplace like that . . .

A few weeks ago I had one of those wonderful procedures in the hospital where they put you under and probe your insides with a lighted tube — with a microscope on the end of it, no less (from the top part of my body, not the bottom, thank you very much).

Anyway, I rather enjoyed the anesthesia and the day off from work. I came home happily sedated and slept most of the afternoon away. I was surprised I could sleep at all that night, but I went straight off to dreamland. My rest felt weighty, groggy, though.



The next morning I woke up with that heavy, unnatural feeling. Then suddenly I knew something had happened. I had done it.

I had dreamed an entire novel.

I’ve heard of people who have had this experience. One, I think, got a runaway best-seller out of it. As I lay there in the dark, I reviewed the major plot points. I was amazed. Yes, I congratulated myself. I had done it. This was a book. It seemed like a good one. Maybe even a little like that best-seller, I dared to hope. And I was certain, absolutely certain that I would remember it — at least the major points. I mean, they were right there in my head. Crystal clear. Or what seemed like crystal clear at the time. I promised myself I’d write it all down as soon as I got up . . .

The next night, I had just laid down and gotten all comfy and cozy in my bed when it hit me. Oh yes. I dreamed a novel last night, didn’t I? With a sinking feeling, I remembered I had gotten up, got dressed, gone off to work, came home, ate supper, watched TV and went to bed . . . without even a single thought about what I had dreamed.

What in the world was that book about? No idea. I strained and struggled, spat and sputtered, but there was nothing. I couldn’t remember a single, solitary plot point. Only a vague, wordless impression. And barely that.

Ah, what might have been.

I haven’t lost hope, though. For one thing, I’m pleased with the content of my current work in progress. And maybe I’ll have the dream again, or even a better one. Maybe sometime when I’m very relaxed and it’ll come back to me. Who knows?

Have any of you had that experience? Have you dreamed a book or a part of one? Did it work out for you? I’d like to hear about it.

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