Body Surfing As Metaphor
Weigh In Wednesday


I wrote the following to my mom this morning, and as I was writing about it, wanted to post it here as well.

Last night I dreamt I was in a HUGE craftsman style house -- 3 or 4 times bigger than G. Jane's Makawao house (which was a 3 story, 5 bedroom, huge old house). I was someone's guest and I knew they had a baby (maybe it was Jen's? or Cynthia's?) and I knew the baby hadn't been seen for a while. I was walking down an upstairs hallway, going down to the ground floor, there were friendly dogs hanging out with me and as I went down the stairs I heard very faint crying. I stopped and thought, hmmmm, it's not my baby, I shouldn't do anything. But then I knew that there was no one else so I paused and went closer to the doors and could tell the baby had been crying and neglected for a long time that day. So I went into the amazingly furnished room through the large glass french doors and the baby (I think boy) stood up in his very fashionable designer crib painted in period greens and browns with fancy pillows and trimmings. He was crying and crying and crying and my heart just melted. I went right over and reached out to him. He didn't reach back, just kept wiping his eyes and I picked him up and comforted him and hugged and hugged him and started to take him downstairs with me. 

I woke up feeling like -- uh oh, my creative babies are feeling very neglected and are crying out to me!

And no mistake that it was a "crafts" man house.

No surprise as yesterday on NPR they mentioned a short story contest they are having this summer and when I heard that I knew instantly what the story was that I would enter. It's been sitting in rough form in my inbox on my desk for months -- a year?  More? I then sorta half blew off the idea of working on it and sending it in. Until this morning, after that dream. So I got up and typed up the handwritten notes and will work on it and I will send it in.

Funny thing -- the story is based on a dream too!

Time to blow the cobwebs out of my imagination and get it sparked and running again.