10.00 a.m. breakfast with my agent at Bumpkins Beach Bar, Antigua to discuss the opportunity for a sequel, to novel number 6 and the film rights for my autobiographical romp ... My Overactive Imagination.
Awake at dawn again, I made a cup of coffee, took it back to bed and started working on my WIP, but ended up drifting off. I was happy with how the interaction between my main protagonist and another key character was going when I must have drifted back to sleep. I dreamt very vividly... Continue Reading →
BIZARRE DREAM RECALL - WHAT TRIGGERS OUR DREAMS? More recently I dream my worldly goods are on the back of a hand-drawn cart. I keep putting my dog and three cats on the back of the cart. They keep jumping off and I repeatedly put them back, but eventually, they run away and I can't find them. My wallet is something else I regularly lose in my dreams and I end up roaming the streets with nothing more than the clothes I am wearing. Brexit angst?
I don't think my mother read any of my literary contributions since I had poetry published at eleven when she had high hopes that I would become Gloucestershire's answer to William Wordsworth. Oh, and helping my step-father piece together his aeronautical autobiography, of course.
The atmosphere is intense. I am feeling a little nervous now. It is almost time to deliver my important one liner to Maggie and I lean, a little too heavily, on a piece of the scenery which brings the whole set crashing down around the revered actors.
Freud would have had a field day with my dreams. Freud believed that dreams represented a disguised fulfillment of a repressed wish. Not sure that I totally agree with him about that as one of my recurring dreams is about being on the toilet. Only the toilet is on a stage of a theatre with... Continue Reading →