Pink sequins and a ball of yarn

I’m one of those people who dreams in full colour, with conversation, of course, often with a full  soundtrack, and generally, an action-filled,  twisted plot.

There are times when these dreams are so scary that my semi-conscious mind invades my subconscious to say things, such as, “Wake up!  Wake up!  You are dreaming!  Wake up!”  Heart racing, it often takes several tries before the more conscious part of my brain can have the desired effect.  I wake up panting and relieved.  “It was only a dream,” I sigh,  “only a dream.”

I’m afraid, though to go back to sleep right away, just in case the dream was only on “pause” and I slip back into the part where I left off, prepared for impending murder and mayhem.  At times like this, to dispel the dream, I’ll go to the kitchen, turn on the light, walk around the kitchen three times, and have a few sips of water before going back to sleep.

But sometimes, I wake up laughing, and sometimes the conscious part of my subconscious – that part that prevents me from getting into too much trouble — says “Wow!  That’s such a great line.  Remember that line!”

The other part of my mind agrees, but says it’s too tired right now; it will just remember the great line and write it down in the morning.

One of two things will happen:  Every time I start to drift into another dream I’ll be reminded about the line, and half-wake myself repeating it.  On those mornings, I wake up groggy, without the faintest idea of what I was trying to remember.  Hence, what happens more frequently is that I’ll pat the table beside the bed until I find a pen and write the line on any available surface.

Apparently, last night I didn’t find a pen.

On the island in the kitchen this morning, I found this sentence scrawled in blue ink on the back of an envelope, “I’m not going to be the one wearing a pink sequined jacket and sculpting onesies from a ball of yarn.”

That was my brilliant line.  I was saying, “Huh?” just the way you are saying “huh?” then I remembered being at the top of a mountain in the South American Andes…

© 2013 Sue Farrell Holler

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