So I started Dream Logging, which is essentially writing a dream the very moment you wake up from it. No one knows what's going on in there but I feel there's a kind of sense to it.
I'm posting this for those in the grip of writer's block. Let's have something to write about. It's a challenge if you'll see it that way. A challenge to have something to write about.
We never stop dreaming, don't we?
A mother and three sons ©RobertKinobi
Dreams never starts with once upon a time. Mine begins with...
So I ran up there, high up on that raised platform, probably reaching 20 feet high, and I saw a note saying that Lina was reprimanded for laughing when someone jumped and broke their knee. I jumped and landed. I felt my wildness was finally a match for her.
I rode through school on my bike, got to 1200 lecture theatre and parked in front. I got off my bike and was fishing for something in my pocket when someone kicked a football against my head. People were gathered round me and screaming but I couldn't hear them with my ear ringing. My head throbbed. I got mad and chased the guy who kicked the ball. The guy ran and hid behind the screaming people, who had gathered to protect him from me. Then I pushed them away and watched them fall like dominoes. I threw the guy on the floor and balled my hands into a fist, ready to punch his face in. The guy whimpered a 'sorry.' I realised that that's all I needed to hear for me to calm down.
Then I was alone there. It's night and deserted. I'm seated on the grass and staring at the sky. It's as if I'm in my own little planet that's as far as ten yards over, under, and atop the core. The moon is a gigantic orb that's almost blinding, and like the little prince, I have no idea how such things are and how the imaginations are so wild. Did I say that my dog, Chappie is with me again. He fears he'd fall off the edge of the planet, so he sticks to me and stares at the giant moon. Soon he forgets his fears, his body stops vibrating like those sexual tools. And he calms. His white coat is one amongst the brightness flooded against me in the vastness of a black space.
And that's exactly how it feels to be truly alone.
But where does the mother and three sons come into play?
It's a dream after all and a lot of things don't come into play.
I think it's talking about my sisters and I, and how uncultured we are.
I guess I'll ask the Night Mare once I sleep again.
If you have writers block or otherwise, I challenge you to post a dream log. It shouldn't be edited later. What's needed is the originality. It could be under a copyrighted pseudonym if you like.

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