I dream in Technicolor, and I often remember them. Dreams stick in a little dusty file cabinet in the back of my head, and often I’ll incorporate them into stories, or they become the tiny bit of grit around which a story will build itself up in nacreous layers.
Last night’s dream offerings (at least, the ones I can remember clearly) were both pretty obviously anxiety-based. The first was a violently-yellow schoolbus out in the middle of a weed-strewn field, and inside there were hostages (children or not, I’m not sure) that it was my mission to rescue. I was driving up to the bus in a convertible (so not the proper vehicle for a rescue run) and thinking worriedly that I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do when I got there.
The other was of a homeless girl struggling to survive in France, probably via Breakfast in Babylon, who ended up being bitten by a vampire much less handsome than Max Schreck. She was desperate to figure out what to do, and at that point I realized I was her sister. She bit me, but there was no effect, and we went from place to place keeping her out of the sun and looking for a cure…until the other vampires showed up and I found out I was stronger and faster than I had been.
Still, it ended up with her getting staked. Not very fun at all.
So yeah, anxiety dreams. Dreams where I have to protect or rescue someone, but I’m unable to do so. If there’s anything guaranteed to drive me to distraction, that’s it. Although…that last one does have potential for a story.
In other news, it’s the anniversary of Jane Austen’s passing. I kind of feel like watching Colin Firth smoulder a little in that Pride and Prejudice starring him and Jennifer Ehle, who was the best Lizzie Bennett EVAR. The bit where he stares at her after she rescues his sister from embarrassment, my goodness but it makes me melt every time. *flutters a little* All in all, it’s probably a good cure for a night full of anxiety dreams.
Over and out.