I dream some weird stuff, some of which has been used in my writing over the years. A couple of months ago, for example, I dreamed of a trapdoor where beneath lay waiting evil. In the dream the image looked the trapdoor in Evil Dead with the scary demon cackling from it. But here was no demon, only a curse in the guise of a promise. I could not see it but I could hear it – the charlatan voice. The dream gave me ideas, now incorporated in my WIP.
Last week, this dream was short, a few seconds, a snapshot, of my hands holding open a client’s book (currently WIP). On the page a secret message was revealed, its potential for viral enormous. I told my client next morning. Watch this space.
But last night the dream was particularly scary; I was writing a new book with an infamous co-author: Peter Sutcliffe AKA the Yorkshire Ripper. He was fat, wrinkled, his eyes black and empty. Recalling the dream ran me cold.
Perhaps I should attempt channelling, I thought later, but then wasn’t Sutcliffe mates with Jimmy Saville? Last thing I want is a Saville-based nightmare. Do you have writerly dreams?