I had turmoil dreams again, which is so very frustrating since it won’t allow me to actually log what they were about. They’re just fragments, bits and pieces that make no sense whatsoever. It’s such a pity, too, considering that my dreams so often make for a wonderful basis of my books. There’s “Trust Me” Said the Spy: Based on a dream.
“The Chronicles of the Ashta-Mahk”: Dream.
Same goes for, “Memories of the Future” my very first novel ever. “Hunters”, “Surviving Fate”, “The Expert”, “Horse Mistress”…and so many, many more.
Dreams, I have found are a marvelous way to get inspiration for stories.
No matter, though, since I wake up at the sound of the alarm and frown at the sight of thick clouds still overcastting the sky like a thick moist blanket. I’m starting to get sick and tired of all this rain. Can you imagine what your clothes look, and feel like if you’ve got almost a hundred wet dogs vying for your attention. It’s not pleasant, I assure you.
During the morning rituals, I start reading a new copy of one of my review books and am pleasantly surprised by the story. Though it could do with a bit more…elegance perhaps, in the way the sentences are shaped, it’s good. It draws me in and creates a pleasant atmosphere to immerse into as a young medieval knight, struggles with his alcohol problem.
That would a tough thing to do in that time, I imagine, since ale and the likes were pretty much the only thing they could safely serve. Interesting concept.
Anyways, by the time I get to the house the rain starts up again, sending the dogs scurrying after me under the cover of the aluminum plating that spans most of the courtyard.
No laundry, gratefully, but the pantry flooded again during the night’s storm, filling it with a solid inch that we’ll have to tackle at some point in the near future.
Since there is little else for me to do, and my head is pounding too much for a comfortable workout, I decide to do a bit of organizing and cleaning in the kitchen instead, while I wait for big brother and grandpa to join me in the main part of the house.
There’s quite a bit of talk about the weather, and its unusual shifts that are purported to last at least another week, if we’re to believe the reports. Blast it! Global warming’s a pain that’s a fact.
By the time our breakfast is over and the dogs are freed from the patio, big brother and I settle down at our computers and get to work.
Several hours pass as I finish the scene from the other day, and at the end of it start on a new one. Three to four pages to add…and they’re nice additions, I’m thinking, liking the way the new story is developing into a full blown suspense-thriller with just enough preternatural aspects to it, to make it really interesting. Hah.
When dinnertime arrives and little brother proclaims that he’s taking a turn at the chore, the chaos in the room is too much for proper concentration and I shut down my files in order to do a quick round of the usual places online.
Soon delicious scents are drifting through the house, an Indian curry tantalizing me even though I’m still nauseous and battling that annoying pounding in my head all the while.
Though dinner is soon ready, I postpone eating for at least another hour, allowing my stomach to get really hungry, hoping that this will prevent the meal from coming up again after consumption.
The ploy works, too, allowing me to eat about half a portion of a rather spicy curry with basmati rice. Oh my, was it spicy! It actually surprised little brother a little, and he apologized profusely, even though we all assured him that it was tasty anyway. It was…after adding a large amount of cottage cheese and eating it with bread, rather than a fork. Hah.
I had to drink three glasses of water afterwards, however, filling my stomach to full capacity and forcing me to stay immobile for several hours before I felt comfortable enough to move again without fear of chucking it back up.
Luckily there was an episode of “House” and “The Mentalist” to watch, keeping us all entertained for most of the evening.
As usual, when the weather’s wet and chilly, the dogs are restless during the course of the day. Cockers vie for empty spots on chairs and table. The larger Gaucho, (an Afghan) mid-sized Ama (Pointer) and mixed breed, Yama, too. All of them try to curl up on the table while the rest of the dogs squeeze themselves on the large rug that spreads out in front of the two heaters burning bravely in the sitting area.
It’s quite amazing to see how, when they’re all huddling close together, we literally get a living carpet of every available color of fur on the floor. This, particularly, makes it impossible for anyone to walk around without doing a serious exercise course, over, around and through the pack–if for no other reason than to keep yourself from stepping on any toes or tails.
Nearing midnight, I write a quick reminder to the publisher that I haven’t heard back from them in the promised three months about the short vampire story I sent them, and finally decide to take a painkiller when the pounding in my head gets to be a little too much for comfort.
That done, I get my stuff, take the dogs out ASAP in the short dry spell that has cleared the sky up just a bit, and head on up to my cabin for the night. After feeding the pack and the usual routine for the evening, I get online to see what’s been going on during my absence.
No comments:
Post a Comment