A Little Action & Adventure... in My Dreams

It was a dark and.... wait....no, no, no.... it was a gray and chilly day that dawned over S. Indiana. The air nipped at the exposed skin of my face. No use swatting it away. O.k., where's the 70 degrees and sun I was promised?

I got to bed later but I slept later so I balanced out. Dreamed like crazy the last several nights and while you may say, "So what", dreaming is crucial to proper sleep. Last night's was particularly vivid.

An Explosive Getaway

I was in some sort of facility with half a dozen folks, two of them men. We couldn't get out and there were what looked like a couple of dozen cells along one wall. In the center of the room was a moat like structure with a big block "room" with a barred top in the middle of of this mote area. A man was inside and he couldn't get out. We were trying to escape.

I don't know where the dynamite came from or who set the charges. My impressions (its a dream remember) was the guy in the block room did it. Anyway, on the outer wall opposite the cells and mote area were all these red circles drawn at intervals along the wall, each about the size of a quarter. As I understand it, each point is where there's a charge just large enough to blow a small section without sending tons of cement block shards into the room. (No I've never blown anything up so, I don't really know but figured we'd find out). There were enough points that the whole wall would blow out.

We only had a few minutes left. This guy looked at his watch and said run, we did, hiding behind an area that was shielded by another wall. The thing blew and we headed through the opening and outside. My next concern was how this guy was getting out of the box but the instructions seemed to be every man or woman for themselves cause that's what I did.

Apparently this cell area is not easy to escape from by "window". I find myself hanging over a cliff, half dozen other people hanging on below me. I ask where ?? is. No I don't catch his name. But he was the second man in the group. Someone below me kind of pointed and I thought they meant he was in the body of water that ran below us along this cliff. I asked what was in it because it looked choked with dead weeds and was a coffee brown. Someone said, "It's a mote." I'm sure I probably rolled my eyes.

I was looking for a way down the cliff when the guy from the "box" appeared and, of course, he nimbly climbed down to the bottom and studied the problem. It was too far to jump. On the other side I realized was a sidewalk with a low wall running along mote side. Farther down I saw a bridge that joined the walkway and lead away from this "castle". Do not know where that term came from but that's what came to mind.

Our "hero" moved along the edge of the mote and we followed. I don't know how we all climbed down but probably the same way he did. He walked alone the edge of the mote and stopped where there was a concrete piling about halfway across the mote... within easy reach of a jump. A tiny dot in a sea of brown sludge. I did not relish falling into that and besides, we didn't know what else was  in there.

Just like a deer he hopped to the piling, and then to the walk on the other side. He was smiling and saying, "Come on. It's easy." All I saw was an area about the size of a large dinner plate. I don't know what I did but I suspect it was something like staring at him and and saying, "Really?" The next thing I knew I had jumped and reached the sidewalk.

I woke up.

And this is always how I always got my ideas before I got sick.

Y'll have a nice day.

A Brain in a Box

Thursday dawned... well, it got light out. Gray skies, a rather half-hearted rain, and freezing cold greeted me when I raised the garage door. Yikes! Into the breech.

I went to work. Things are backing up and they are beginning to intimidate me. I hope tomorrow will be a day that I'll get it all organized. I didn't get a lot done in the morning but my continued exhaustion is wreak havoc with my concentration.

I had lunch with my friend, Doug today. He's a brilliant friend, is Doug. You'd really like him. When the opportunity to have lunch with him arises, I'm thrilled. Fortunately these opportunities seem to arise when I'm having knotty problems with my story. Doug is the king of disentangling knotty story problems. Really, I don't know how he does it but it is as if he has this laser vision that cuts through layers and layers of tangled story. You hand it to him and suddenly, in minutes, lunch was only an hour remember, he hands you back the core of the story you were looking for but couldn't see. I left lunch with my prize, a brain in a box! Yep, Doug gave me a brain in a box and it is going to revolutionize my story.

No, really.

Seriously, it will.

Sigh. OK. So, it's only going to get me out of a corner that I boxed myself into when I introduced the box. Wow... it isn't a pun but it should be. But Simon is going to love this box. When I tell him.

The afternoon was much brighter, at least, in my mind. That brain in the box was a nice motivator. Staying focused was much harder but I managed to get more work done than I originally anticipated. But there's still piles.

I'm so tired and it is really silly to be sitting here writing a blog post. I can barely think straight and when I read this it sounds ridiculous. But that is what I do.

Onto the Pier

The pier stretched out, into a turquoise sea that stretched to the end of the world and disappeared into a matching sky. I squinted in the glare from the the reflection of the sun on the water and sighed. For a moment I closed my eyes, allowing myself to soak up the warmth of sun on my skin. I opened my eyes and walked onto the pier.

My  bare feet made no sound but the wood planks were rough from years of weathering and walking and it pricked at my feet. It crossed my mind that a splinter check would be required on my return. The radiant heat of the planks began to sting my soles but I kept walking, my sandals dangling from my left hand. I could put them on but I welcomed the heat. I'd been cold a long time.  © 2013 Cynthia Maddox

When it comes, I have to write it... and I've not been writing in a while. This is the whisper I've been hearing this week.I have no idea what it is; I just like it. 

Where is this place? Why is she there? Where is she going? Where did she come from? What is she doing there? What is at the end of the pier? Who is she? 

Might want start a blog of this stuff. Seems easier to keep up with.