Isolation Dreams

Photo by: Read 01

I'm having weird stress dreams. It started with a waitressing dream, which is a common one for me. I waitressed for six years, and it was over twenty five years ago, but when my subconscious wants to screw with me, that's where we go.

It started the same as usual. I'm working alone in a large restaurant when the place fills up with customers. (It happened to me once in real life, but to this day, it's a blur.)  But unlike most waitressing dreams, I keep my head. I formulate a plan, and go about my tasks methodically, with some success.

That is, until customers start to get nasty and strange. One woman stops me so she can berate my appearance. She tells me I look 'slovenly' and 'disgusting'. She then starts plucking Freya fur off my uniform and uses it to decorate her eyelashes and eyebrows. "See?" she snaps. "Like this. Take some pride in yourself for God's sakes."

Before I can reply, another customer directs my attention to a couple of disruptive addicts. They're high as kites and crawling around under the tables pretending they're babies. One of them is Bobcat Goldthwait. I'm told that he and his girlfriend met at a tractor pull. Um....Where are my bouncers? I realize I'm at Patty's in Red Deer, and it's the graveyard shift. We always have bouncers on graveyards. Where are the bouncers? I wake sweaty and relieved that I no longer waitress. ESPECIALLY on graveyards at Patty's.

Bobcat Goldthwait, Police Academy

Just the other day, I dreamed I was in a huge shop that sold EVERY flavor of ice cream in the world. It was wall to wall self serve dispensers, like soft serve. Cotton Candy? My favorite, but I want to be adventurous. Root Beer Float? Second favorite, but I crave something new. Squid ink? Okay, maybe not that adventurous.

What I REALLY want is Salmon flavored. I search for it, but there's no rhyme or reason to the system. I'm walking through miles of aisles and it's starting to piss me off. I REALLY want Salmon ice cream, dammit! Oh shit...I'm lost. How do I get out of this shop? I wake up sweaty, and I think this dream represents my craving for sashimi. God, I love sashimi more than any food in the world. Like silk on my tongue...

The next night, I dream that I work there. Even in the dream, I'm wondering why the Hell am I working in an ice cream shop? I've had enough of Food Industry jobs! But in the dream, I shrug it off. In these uncertain times, I must need the extra pay. Besides, they want me to create a tomato sorbet, and that sounds like fun. Start with vine-ripened tomatoes, maybe add a few heirlooms, like Purple Cherokee...and some basil for extra sweetness. Would garlic still work? Is there such a thing as Garlic Ice Cream?

Then it occurs to me...Is that Fucking Tomato here somewhere? The one with the Bostonian accent? I'd like to grind that bastard into the sorbet--him and his ugly carrot buddy. Then again, what if he shows up while I'm throwing his peeled tomato friends into a blender? I panic and wake up.

My dreams appear to be getting weirder, and I wasn't sure that was possible. However, it did remind me that I don't think I ever told you about my anthology project.

I guess I didn't because it's largely on the backburner. Lately I've had more time to work on it, and I've also developed new material. I've often said many of my book ideas come from dreams. Thoeba was the first, but all of my books have some root in something I've literally dreamed up. I have stories, drabbles and other flash fiction that showcase ideas that don't fit into my angel and demon/ mythology/ reincarnation brand.

Here's what you can expect: I've been a treeplanter who meets an Elemental. I've been an senior center worker who gets kidnapped by fairies. I've been exterminated. I've screamed from mountaintops about being an independently published author. I've met a shadow person. (Every bit as terrifying as they say.) All this and more from my warped subconscious.

I have a story named 'A Town Called Grey'. I tried writing it when I was fifteen, and my mother loved what I'd started. Right now it's too long, but still vague. It might not make the cut, but I'll finish it for my mom. No, I don't think it should be a novel. It might make a good Outer Limits episode.

I'm still working on it, but I can tell you about it now because it's actually coming together. How soon? I don't know. I'm just going to keep writing. So wish me luck, and I hope you enjoyed a silly blog after the last two sad ones.

And for the record--I've dreamed of Spartacus once. Last time I saw him in dreams, he was hairless, and I kissed the Hell out of him. We really miss that sweet boy.

I've Been Dreaming

ABSFreePic.com Photo by: medilo

I can't believe it's been so long since I posted, but I've been dreaming. That means I've been writing what I've been dreaming.

Last night I was a demon. I had red eyes and long teeth. I could leap vast distances, and my jaw unhinged like a snake to swallow larger prey. Being a demon didn't seem to frighten me. It was the unrelenting darkness before me that made me wake in a cold sweat. When I slept again, I was a chambermaid in a cheesy motel and I had a pink uniform.

No, I'm not writing a lot, but I am editing. Her True Name: Volume Two is two chapters away from the completion of the second read-through. I've fixed a few things and checked the flow. It doesn't feel ready.

On the advice of a friend, I started a dream journal. It's a way to deal with my father's passing. She believes that I'll get book ideas from it. What I am getting is more strange cities and even more hotels than before. The airports and airplanes are still there, and there's a new symbol.

There's a blue car now. It's a rickety old thing, maybe a Ford or a Chevy or something European from the sixties. It putters in the sky and along mountain roads. It hits the ditch often because it's both an automatic and a standard, and I need to but both gears in 'park'. It makes me think of my father, especially since I've never dreamed of it before last month. What does it mean?

I can tell you that I'm working on a project, off and on regarding my dreams. It's a collection of blog posts, drabbles and short stories. Just things I've dreamed up in the past that don't fit my brand. I don't know if any of the dreams I've had since Dad died will be there. None so far, but that doesn't mean anything yet.

I'm just wondering where these odd thoughts are taking me. What's in store for me? Is my father trying to say something to me in my sleep? Why the shabby little blue car?  Are you as curious as I am where this is going? Guess we'll find out. Eventually.

Have I Crashed my Plane?

I used to dream of airports. I often dreamed about long rows of plastic chairs lined up on smooth gold floors with hundreds of people rushing by with luggage. Jets screamed past massive windows, and voices echoed over PA systems. The airports are always gold, with statues, moving sculptures or spiral staircases.

Sometimes I found myself strapped into one of those blue economy seats, pointed straight up at the sky. Why do my airplanes always have an open fuselage? No matter the size of the aircraft?

Photo by: Whaldener Endo

I never quite understood what those dreams meant, until the other night.

I was dangling from a parachute, watching as my banana yellow biplane glided away from me, its Bear engine smoking and sputtering. I twisted in my sleep, disturbing my husband.

"What's wrong, Honey?" he asked.

I distinctly remember telling him: "I need to learn how to fly in airplanes again." before going back to sleep.

I haven't been writing much lately. The ITIN still isn't here, and with each passing day, I grow more anxious.

What happens if it isn't approved? How many times must I keep trying? SHOULD I keep trying? Is it worth all this stress? Will Her True Name and Chasing Monsters ever come to print? Or is all the time and money spent all going to go to waste?

I come home from work, thinking about yard work, washing walls and how very little energy I have to do either, never mind write. Is this all there is? To spend hours everyday in a tiny windowless kitchen while I suppress my dreams? Have I forgotten how to fly?

A year, maybe even six months from now, I'm going to look back at this with a smile on my face. I'm going to chuckle at my own doubt. I'll have my muse at my shoulder and another completed novel and/or novella. What's the use of telling new writers to persevere if you can't live by your own words?

Don't worry. As soon as that ITIN is in, the novella will be out. In the meantime, I'll still be writing, even if I have to do it in tiny, exhausted increments. Stand by for take off.

Summers are Short. This Blog is Long. Life is Good.

I've made a healthy decision. I'm not stressing out ANY MORE. I'm writing, and that's good, but the less I push, the more the writing flows. It also helps to take ones laptop and morning coffee outside and write paragraphs between smelling the roses and watching the cats chase bugs. One can also pull weeds while one is pondering sentences and descriptives.

Why should I stay inside washing walls and doing renovations when it's a gorgeous 27 degrees Celsius outside?--While a sweet smelling summer breeze wafts over the tomatoes? I need to rethink my priorities in a new way.

Nothing is more important than writing. Except maybe cats. And beloved trolls. But I've decided I desperately need the vitamin D, and THAT will make Donna a better writer and an easier person to live with.

Winters in Canada, especially this last one have the endurance equaled only by arctic climates and Game of Thrones.

It's time to cut myself a break and enjoy my friends, my family and the weather. To warp a tired cliche, all work and no play makes for drab writing and an unhappy Donna.


I have vivid and unusual dreams. I had a real whopper a week ago. It was a 'train' dream, which for me, usually means a change in career or job. For some reason, I don't think so this time. This is something else.

Bear with me. I'd love some input.

A nasty storm was coming. I looked out my bedroom window to see how bad it was. Instead of my street, I saw an elaborate gondola/rail system dispatching purple two-seater pods. I ran outside to investigate, and found a two story station in the middle of my street, at the end of my driveway. I climbed the stairs to investigate.

A train car sat awaited passengers. I glanced past it to see black thunderheads approaching from the Southwest. Since I hate thunderstorms and had nothing better to do, I hopped on for a ride.

It was a  maiden-voyage celebration, with champagne and streamers. Swag and collectables were passed around as we sped through Edmonton to small towns. We got off and toured those small towns along the way. I even remember some of the names. For the record, I don't think towns like 'Adams', 'Boots', and 'Zoom' exist in Alberta, but they had buildings and grain elevators with those names on them.

We turned to go back to Edmonton, and I found people I knew on the way back. (No one I know in reality) I showed them around the train--more champagne, better swag including personalized bottles of tequila (I HATE tequila) and I found both a Slurpee bar AND  a breakfast bar. I don't recall getting home.

Weird huh? I think I told you readers because it was intense and wonderful and spontaneous. Like life should be.

It's too late (or too early) for New Year's Resolutions, but I'm going to make this my best summer ever. I refuse to be fettered by the unrealistic expectations I've placed upon myself. Wall washing and renovations can wait (Just wear your shoes when you walk on my kitchen floor, kay?)

Saturday I spent with friends having lunch and getting a spa treatment. Sunday I spent goofing off at a lingerie party with old and new friends I met at a pagan wedding. Tomorrow, I'm indulging in 'Snobby Beer Night' with friends I haven't seen since Christmas and on Tuesday I'M GOING TO TEXAS.

I may not blog next week. I'll be too busy learning my craft, networking, meet new friends, eating Texas Barbecue, and hanging with one of the best friends I never expected to have. It's time to enjoy myself.

I hope your summer is fabulous. I'm going to make sure mine IS.