DREAM
I'm standing on the tiny front porch of the house I grew up in on a cool summer day, and my new neighbor comes over. She's what I would call a "cool girl." She's friendly, she's good-looking, fashionable (wearing a bright, summery, crocheted halter top), she's confident, and makes conversation easily. She has a rather thick Mexican accent. We discuss the other people in the neighborhood.
For some reason, she really doesn't care for the man who moved in next door to her, but I'm not sure why. He seems very "normal" to me. He's got hair the color of hay and blue eyes. He wears a baseball cap, navy blue tee and jeans that are all just a little dirty. For the first time since we've been discussing people around the neighborhood, I don't really trust this woman's judgment.
I go back inside my house, and it's winter. Not only is it winter--icicles dripping with water are bursting in from the glass doors leading to the back yard. I work on removing some of the icicles, but some of them are too thick.
A man dressed in drag is floating in the living room, and explains to me that PewDiePie has moved into the neighborhood and that he's been such a positive influence.
I decide that I'm going to try to seduce the neighbor in the navy tee, but I'm not sure how direct I should be. Should I just knock on the door and ask for sex? Should I draw this out and get to know him over the course of days, weeks, or months? I know what my end goal is, so do I need to delay?
INTERPRETATION
I think this dream is just me ruminating about the short stories I'm trying to write again. The character of the cool girl and the situation with wanting to seduce the neighbor remind me a little bit of things I've been trying to write.
I guess I'm thinking about it a lot because it's really difficult for me to crank out actual pages of work now that I'm attempting to switch gears and do something comedic.
Before, I knew the general direction I wanted to go in and it required more instinct than thought. But instinct doesn't come easily for me with these new short stories.
I feel as though I can set aside time to think about things, and do comedic exercises, but that doesn't mean that good ideas will actually come to me. I don't have control over that part. It's not like writing about my dreams, where original ideas and events and experiences just come flooding in every night. All I had to worry about before was being authentic, but now I have to worry about being entertaining. It's much harder for me to write with the goal of entertaining rather than just inviting people to read snippets of a diary or inviting people to look into a story that's been going on in my head for decades.
