Have you ever had a really wild dream?

I have apocalyptic dreams often enough to expect them. Dreams that I am in a burning building, with flames sweeping across the town. Dreams where space ships are landing and I’m running for cover. Sometimes the setting is peaceful, at least for a little while; hiking into the woods but then coming upon a bear that I must fight off with my hands or driving alongside a lake and suddenly the road is flooded (wait that actually happened, lol).

My poor husband is the captive audience who must listen to the amazing recollection I have. I draw him in with descriptions of fantastic scenarios. He may actually be interested or at least he tries. I can see it in his eyes as the morning coffee hits his brain and he’s putting together the loose ends I’m weaving.

That is my point, there is no point to most dreams. They are chock full of action, danger, perplexing problems that need solutions. The earth is literally cracking. The roof has just collapsed. There are aliens shooting laser darts and searching the streets for me and my band of refugees. Such drama! But alas, the scenes and emotions, the words people speak, the shifting paradigms, never satisfy with a beginning, middle and end. Most times a dream just ends with waking up or it switches gears completely. Going from: I’m about to be in a wedding. To: I’m lost at a mall looking for a restroom. No joke just happened a few nights ago. I found the restrooms, kind of. The figure of a man or a woman was scratched off the entrances. I didn’t know which was which. A man and child came up and said he didn’t know either. Then another man came out of one doorway. “Problem solved,” the father said and went in. Dream ended.

I’ve been on both sides of the story, held captive by a dreamer’s contemplative retelling of the night’s adventures. The only thing to do is nod and say ‘really?’and hope that they can snap out of the faraway look in their eyes. But gain insight from the tale? Not a chance, except maybe that the person you’re with is truly a nutcase or prophetic which can set a serious tone for any day.

Why am I babbling on about the creative, unusual lives we live in our dreamscapes? Because there’s something to be learned. To the dreamer, the world they tell of is vibrant, alive and consuming. They wonder what it all means. Did they make the right choice? Was the psychedelic garden of tulips about the bulbs they planted or a new home on the horizon? The only one fully engaged in the telling of a dream is the person who dreamt. For the rest of us, it’s at best a treat to watch the expressions on a person’s face. At worst it will put you back to sleep hoping they will end it soon.

Writer friends, don’t let your novel become the retelling of a dream only you enjoy. Check it for scenes that describe a wild circumstance with little connection to the story. Don’t throw a disaster in for the sake of building drama. Any reader worth their salt will see right through that. Ask every step of the way, ‘what is the point’? I can assure you, the next person who reads your work will ask that question if not consciously, then in the back of their mind. A ‘dream’ book isn’t devoured. It is read…maybe…eventually, but put down half a dozen times until it ends.

Wake up! Smell the coffee! Leave your dreams behind (except for those that are the seed of a story) and make that story stick to its story.

Merry Christmas! Happy Winter!

Best, Clare