It was the middle of the night when they came. Wifey was snoring and so was the dog but something had brought my eyes flickering open. I could not move among the fuzzy feeling of great warmth brought by the 40-tog duvet and the dog’s backside on my legs but I could see outside to the inky garden and the lapis sky and the feeling of being watched, of something out there, of something coming – was overwhelming. I could hear something outside; a faint, distant drone, and perhaps there were bells, tinkles maybe. I don’t know. I could not move a muscle.
Then it came with a sound like a mousetrap going off; a thick beam of ice-blue light snapped on, illuminating the garden, the trees, and suddenly I was moving, not upwards through the ceiling as one might expect from watching the movies but sideways, yes, passing through my pillows with silent ease, through the wall and window to the outside where staring black eyes on ovular grey heads watched me floating in my back garden. The distant drone was now a loud hum, the snores of my best friends no longer audible. I was leaving, being taken to a place I had always wanted to visit, even if that meant being probed where the sun don’t shine.
I wanted to see the craft before my body slid effortlessly through its hull, wanted to reach out and touch these greylian heads that stared at me like faerie visions from the mist outside the beam, but my paralysis was complete and I could not even blink. I found I could communicate telepathically with these grinning greylians. “This is pants,” I said. “For thirty-five years I’ve been waiting for this, waiting to rise from my bed with my sheets draped around me, to float through my loft, my rooftop, yet you slide me sideways through the wall and I can’t even see your bloody ship? You kidding me? Where’s the value of experience? Where’s the tension and excitement? We need to do this again.”
But the greys only murmured among themselves and still I could not catch a glimpse of their craft.
Then I heard the tune, the iconic five notes used by Spielberg’s Mothership to communicate with the humans… re- mi – do – do (octave lower) – sol, and again, repeated over and over and the lights, all colours lit up like a keyboard and my head could eventually move and there it was, my alarm clock, beeping and buzzing its lightshow. And so I hit snooze a few times and dreamed up ideas for my trailer producer to add to the trailer for Kimi’s Fear which were promptly emailed to him at 7am this morning and to which he replied he thought the ideas great and would be incorporated.
I think it’s quite wonderful that our dreams can bring creativity.
Still, I wish it had been real.
The trailer for Kimi’s Fear is coming soon. And so is the book itself.
In the meantime here’s the reduced version trailer for Kimi’s Secret:
Buy Kimi’s Secret:
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B005ZCQ91W
Amazon USA: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005ZCQ91W
Amazon DE: https://www.amazon.de/dp/B005ZCQ91W
Amazon FR: https://www.amazon.fr/dp/B005ZCQ91W