Thread of Dreams

[JoseUnidos]

I had a dream last night that I was a roadie for the Grateful Dead. Everyone was sitting around a campfire in the woods until it was time to head off in the trucks & drive to the next venue. I had to hike out of the woods to meet the trucks but the path was covered in deep snow that turned into sand dunes that made it impossible to walk. Thank God I woke up at that point.

[Dr. Medulla]

I had a dream last night that I was a roadie for the Grateful Dead. Everyone was sitting around a campfire in the woods until it was time to head off in the trucks & drive to the next venue. I had to hike out of the woods to meet the trucks but the path was covered in deep snow that turned into sand dunes that made it impossible to walk. Thank God I woke up at that point.

Indeed—if you'd stayed asleep you might have ended up at the next Dead show!

[JennyB]

I had a dream last night that I was a roadie for the Grateful Dead. Everyone was sitting around a campfire in the woods until it was time to head off in the trucks & drive to the next venue. I had to hike out of the woods to meet the trucks but the path was covered in deep snow that turned into sand dunes that made it impossible to walk. Thank God I woke up at that point.

I'm so sorry.

[Wolter]

I had a dream last night that I was a roadie for the Grateful Dead. Everyone was sitting around a campfire in the woods until it was time to head off in the trucks & drive to the next venue. I had to hike out of the woods to meet the trucks but the path was covered in deep snow that turned into sand dunes that made it impossible to walk. Thank God I woke up at that point.

I'm so sorry.

Seriously. Imagine having to hear the Dead every damn day.

[JennyB]

I had a dream last night that I was a roadie for the Grateful Dead. Everyone was sitting around a campfire in the woods until it was time to head off in the trucks & drive to the next venue. I had to hike out of the woods to meet the trucks but the path was covered in deep snow that turned into sand dunes that made it impossible to walk. Thank God I woke up at that point.

I'm so sorry.

Seriously. Imagine having to hear the Dead every damn day.

And all the while having to deal with their fans.

[JoseUnidos]

I had a dream last night that I was a roadie for the Grateful Dead. Everyone was sitting around a campfire in the woods until it was time to head off in the trucks & drive to the next venue. I had to hike out of the woods to meet the trucks but the path was covered in deep snow that turned into sand dunes that made it impossible to walk. Thank God I woke up at that point.

I'm so sorry.

Seriously. Imagine having to hear the Dead every damn day.

And all the while having to deal with their fans.

It's like Dante's Inferno-meets-Groundhog Day

[Mimi]

I was in a 1970s-style detective show—like The Rockford Files or Charlie's Angels—where I was sent to investigate a town where everyone wore small sacks over their heads. The reason they did this was that by hiding their identity, everyone could be corrupt. (Somehow people could still see what they were doing.) I was making contact with the "underground," where people would meet in washrooms and back alleys and briefly take off their sacks. The last thing I remember was being passed information about the ringleader, and then an ominous knock on the door.

This would make a great dystopian novel. Young adult, of course.

If you wanna pursue it, I gift it to you.

Heh. No. I actually don't like dystopian novels. They make me depressed, which is strange because a lot of book ideas I get seem geared toward that genre.

[revbob]

I had a dream last night that I was a roadie for the Grateful Dead. Everyone was sitting around a campfire in the woods until it was time to head off in the trucks & drive to the next venue. I had to hike out of the woods to meet the trucks but the path was covered in deep snow that turned into sand dunes that made it impossible to walk. Thank God I woke up at that point.

I'm so sorry.

Seriously. Imagine having to hear the Dead every damn day.

And all the while having to deal with their fans.

Welcome to Vermont.

[Dr. Medulla]

I was in a 1970s-style detective show—like The Rockford Files or Charlie's Angels—where I was sent to investigate a town where everyone wore small sacks over their heads. The reason they did this was that by hiding their identity, everyone could be corrupt. (Somehow people could still see what they were doing.) I was making contact with the "underground," where people would meet in washrooms and back alleys and briefly take off their sacks. The last thing I remember was being passed information about the ringleader, and then an ominous knock on the door.

This would make a great dystopian novel. Young adult, of course.

If you wanna pursue it, I gift it to you.

Heh. No. I actually don't like dystopian novels. They make me depressed, which is strange because a lot of book ideas I get seem geared toward that genre.

So you don't follow inspiration like that? I get the emotional drain of some subjects, but if your ideas lean in that direction, maybe it's something that's an itch you have to scratch. I'm a firm believer that everything we write is autobiography, so I lean to those kinds of happy accidents for subject matter.

[Heston]

I've never had nightmares since I was a child but twice I've woke up in the last month screaming at the top of my voice. Once was when I was in a room full of ghosts in the dream who were all poking at me, the other I can't remember. According to my girlfriend I also got up and kung fu-kicked a glass of water off the bedside table the other night, I only remember the aftermath.

[Mimi]

I was in a 1970s-style detective show—like The Rockford Files or Charlie's Angels—where I was sent to investigate a town where everyone wore small sacks over their heads. The reason they did this was that by hiding their identity, everyone could be corrupt. (Somehow people could still see what they were doing.) I was making contact with the "underground," where people would meet in washrooms and back alleys and briefly take off their sacks. The last thing I remember was being passed information about the ringleader, and then an ominous knock on the door.

This would make a great dystopian novel. Young adult, of course.

If you wanna pursue it, I gift it to you.

Heh. No. I actually don't like dystopian novels. They make me depressed, which is strange because a lot of book ideas I get seem geared toward that genre.

So you don't follow inspiration like that? I get the emotional drain of some subjects, but if your ideas lean in that direction, maybe it's something that's an itch you have to scratch. I'm a firm believer that everything we write is autobiography, so I lean to those kinds of happy accidents for subject matter.

Nope. If I chased after every plot bunny, I'd never get anything written. I do it too much now, sort of like this radio play that I already started but not sure if it's worth it to finish.

Interesting that you believe everything is autobiography. For me, it's not. With the exception of one character, I don't even base my characters off of real people.

[Dr. Medulla]

Nope. If I chased after every plot bunny, I'd never get anything written. I do it too much now, sort of like this radio play that I already started but not sure if it's worth it to finish.

Ha! That's why I tend not to get anything written. I've been researching what was supposed to be one essay among a bunch, but I've gotten so attracted to all the rabbit holes that it seems more like a short book now. But I enjoy the research enough that I just follow shit where it goes.

Interesting that you believe everything is autobiography. For me, it's not. With the exception of one character, I don't even base my characters off of real people.

To me, everything we write is about scratching some kind of itch, usually unconsciously. It's easier to realize when there's a fuller body of work to assess for patterns, but it's there. We can't help but write about ourselves and what drives us and makes us anxious. We're just leaving clues behind. My dissertation is okay-ish as scholarship, but once I was done, I realized it's actually pretty revealing about me personally. But it's only apparent if you approach it properly and ask the right questions.

[revbob]

I've never had nightmares since I was a child but twice I've woke up in the last month screaming at the top of my voice. Once was when I was in a room full of ghosts in the dream who were all poking at me, the other I can't remember. According to my girlfriend I also got up and kung fu-kicked a glass of water off the bedside table the other night, I only remember the aftermath.

Yeah Ive only had a few since I was a kid but I still remember one from when I was maybe 10. As for your other escapades I had a friend who would do shit like that. He worked in a restaurant and he would get up and start getting out knives and shit for doing prep work. It scared the hell out of his family because he would make a lot of noise while he was doing it

[Dr. Medulla]

I had a friend who would do shit like that. He worked in a restaurant and he would get up and start getting out knives and shit for doing prep work. It scared the hell out of his family because he would make a lot of noise while he was doing it

My brother in law used to farm (he's retired now) and I helped out on harvest a few times, mostly driving the combine, which was a pull kind driven by a tractor. It's seriously monotonous work—slowly following the swaths, constantly looking backward to make sure you're not veering off-course and missing the swath and, more seriously, that things don't get plugged up in either the feeder or in the back. Look forward, look behind, look forward, look behind, for hours on end. But even worse was that all my dreams during those weeks were doing the same damn thing. It was like 20 hours a day combining, awake and asleep.

(The other bad thing about spending all that time in the field was that your snot would turn black from all the dirt dust you're breathing in.)

[Kory]

I had a friend who would do shit like that. He worked in a restaurant and he would get up and start getting out knives and shit for doing prep work. It scared the hell out of his family because he would make a lot of noise while he was doing it

My brother in law used to farm (he's retired now) and I helped out on harvest a few times, mostly driving the combine, which was a pull kind driven by a tractor. It's seriously monotonous work—slowly following the swaths, constantly looking backward to make sure you're not veering off-course and missing the swath and, more seriously, that things don't get plugged up in either the feeder or in the back. Look forward, look behind, look forward, look behind, for hours on end. But even worse was that all my dreams during those weeks were doing the same damn thing. It was like 20 hours a day combining, awake and asleep.

(The other bad thing about spending all that time in the field was that your snot would turn black from all the dirt dust you're breathing in.)

Every time I or somebody else has a dream about what they normally do, I ALWAYS think of this: