Category Archives: dreaming
Revelations
I think best, it seems, just before I fully wake up in the morning. Sometimes the morning begins at 3 AM with the mental bang of a new idea, or the idea that solves a bit of writer’s block. That’s how this Sunday began for me.
I have a digital clock on my bedside table, so it’s not possible for me to hear the numbers change over, but I woke up as 2:59 became 3:00 as though I heard tiny panels turning over. Immediately, I thought of Groundhog Day, one of my most favorite movies. Then I thought, “Make things worse. Really bad. She has to suffer.”
She’s got it too easy right now. I need her sweating that nervous, desperate funk while her mind spins from the mess she’s made of her life. And because of the secrets she’s keeping from the ones she loves. So ramp up the bad. How bad can it get? Then make it worse.
So, yeah, I woke up this morning and spent an hour staring at the ceiling and imagining the various things I could do to ruin someone’s life so that when she gets it back she’s learned her lessons and earned her happily ever after. I know what to do now–have already written it, in fact–and I’m feeling that lifted weight a revelation like this always gives me.
Of course, there’s a nap with my name on it waiting for this afternoon…
Sammy
I have a recurring dream about a boy. Not terribly original given what I write about except that this boy is twelve and he wants me to adopt him. His name is Sammy. He has big blue eyes and curly brown hair. He’s always scared and lonely and wanting to be loved. I cuddle him up, promise I’ll be his mom, and get a radiant smile from his beautiful young face because he believes me.
Then I wake up and cry.
Part of me loves this dream and part of me hates it. As far as I know, I don’t have any magic abilities to tell the future. As far as I know, there is no Sammy. At least, not this Sammy. As far as I know, not one thing about this dream is ever going to come true. But, damn it, I really want it to. If I wake up one more damn time wondering where Sammy is…
What I really want to know is why I keep having this dream. If there is a real Sammy out there who’s looking for me, he’s twenty-two right now because I’ve been having this dream for the past ten years. If I’m going to have a twenty-two-year-old around here, he’s not going to be playing the role of my son, for Pete’s sake.
So what’s the deal, Sammy? What do you want?


