“Hey, where’d you go?” I heard behind me. Turning around, I see my best friend from years ago, looking the same as she did at thirteen.
“I was just checking on…” What was I checking on?
“Well, when you’re done, there is a guy over there who wants us to go with him.”
I followed in the direction of her finger. Just beyond was a dirty, gray, beat up van with smoke spewing from the exhaust. I knew that couldn’t be right, but her face was lit up like a Christmas tree, excited for a new adventure.
“Uh…” I started, but was stopped when she pulled me along heading toward where we shouldn’t go, but I couldn’t stop no matter how much I tried. My voice had disappeared.
The closer we came, the more my panic set in and the less control I had. As soon as we made it to the door, sunshine burst through the dingy windows, blinding me until all I could feel was warmth and a sticky sensation slowly covering my body.
Ever find yourself in these moments? I find myself having these dreams that often equate to a unique and unbelievable story. I dream often, but when my sleeping stories turn extraordinary, completely off the charts, and usually frightening, that is an indicator that I need to get back to writing.
It’s like my characters are knocking around, wanting to be let out and causing mischief in order to get me to comply. It works majority of the time. The dreams I have are usually more out of control than the small sample above and most of the time I wake up with my heart pounding and the need to grab a pen to jot it down.
The current novel I’m working on actually started out as a nightmare starring someone I know in real life. He had asked me if I could name just one of my characters after him…even just one speaking line. A few weeks later, my nightmare consisted of him being part of a serial killer duo in which I became one of their next victims. When I tried to escape, he caught me and in order to keep me from doing that again, he put all of his weight on the right side of my rib cage. I felt my muscles tearing and heard my bones cracking before I woke up in a cold sweat.
Ironically, he is the nicest guy I have ever met in real life, but now he/his name has become my protagonist who is actually the good guy, but the biggest asset to one of the most dangerous drug cartels. I also let him name his female counter-part.
But it’s been awhile since I have had a chance to sit down and work on him and their story. Months in fact. Can you imagine the dreams I’ve been having?? They are getting ridiculous.
I have been writing short stories and working on a small serial series (which are on my blog), but it has only been a band-aid and I know I must get back to Bobby Gunn.
Do your characters prompt dreams?