I love my dreams.
Most of them, anyway. And I’m only talking about the ones I remember, obviously – if I can’t recall what I dreamed about it’s hard to say with any conviction that I love them, and if there’s one thing we’re big on here at The Paul Gillespie Experience it’s conviction.
Wait – scratch that; if there’s one thing we’re big on it’s probably actually “fun” or “insanity” or “beach volleyball” or something like that. I’m sure conviction is on the list somewhere but it’s clearly not at the top of the list. I’m pretty sure it falls below “tangents”, one of which I’m on right now.
But I digress.
I was recapping some of my more recent dreams the other day and realized that I really do dream well. Vivid, memorable dreams; the ones that stick with you long after you wake up. Not all happy dreams, either – one in particular I recall from earlier last week was far from sunshine and roses (although, to be fair, I don’t know how it ended since I woke up before all hell broke loose in it; I suppose it’s possible that it ended all smiley and what-not but I’m going to bet against that). But those dreams that I recall I recall just like a movie; the setting, the characters, the lighting – all of that.
What I don’t know, though, is how I got to that point in the story or what happens after. I know I’m walking out of Marco Polo’s Italian Restaurant in Watt’s Mill and headed towards Ugly Joe’s with a friend, but I don’t know why. I don’t know what led up to that point, which is soon followed by an unfortunate meeting with a baseball bat from the punk gang of three who decided to follow us (implied, anyway – I woke up before they got close enough to do anything; I suppose I could have gone all ninja on them but again, I’m going to bet against that), nor do I know how everything ended. Was it a happy ending when all was said and done, or did my mind take it all Prefontaine (which is, incidentally, NOT the Rudy of running movies…) on me?
And that drives me absolute nuts. I want to know why, how and when. I want to see the whole movie, not just parts of it. I tried to go back to sleep to play it out, but once I’m awake and coherent it’s pretty hopeless…and at that point I’m consciously writing/directing the movie in my mind so it takes some of the suspense out of it because I know what I want to have happened, not necessarily what would have happened.
But all that aside, how cool would it be to take pictures in your mind and store them somewhere, like a real photo. Certainly we have this incredibly squishy bit of gray matter in our skulls that does a great job, but it gets tired at some point and things get distorted and changed. How incredible would it be to look back at something and remember it exactly how you dreamt it the first time? The colors, the mood, the characters; all just the way it was when your brain conjured up that dream for you all those days/weeks/months/years ago.
Or maybe that’s just my queue to turn those dreams into stories. I’m falling woefully behind on my writing; maybe this is my brain’s way of saying “HEY – YOU. I just tee’d up an awesome scene for you; put it down on paper so you don’t forget and then turn it into something.” I wouldn’t put that past it, that’s for sure.
OK, I’m going to go write down my scene now and see if it fits into any kind of a story…or maybe use it as the start of a new one.by