"Sunshine, on my window, makes me happy, like I should be..."
The above quote is the opening line of a song called Buy Me a Pony by an Australian band Spiderbait, popular from the mid-1990s. The catchy little pop tune was a hit that transcended the alternative set.
I am thinking about the song today, the fifth grey sky morning in a row, because I keep on having dreams about the sun. The dreams are not about the sun that warms this particular planet, for the suns in my my dreams are suns that a spaceship can land upon and suns that share the sky in pairs or trios. The suns in my dreams have each other for company.
I am in another solar system, I am in a different part of the universe. I am escaping to places so far away, I have clearly left my body for the speed needed to travel to and be there. Once there, I am on a search and rescue mission, for me, for others.
The dominance of the suns permeating my dreams is usually a tall tale sign that my sub-conscious is beating me over the head with a big stick trying to tell me something I should know. It would be far easier if the symbols were literal statements instead, then I would not have to sit here attempting to decipher the near impenetrable code that is my dreamscape mind.
I could use a little sunshine in my life right now. Had another bad dating experience a couple of weeks ago that reminded me why I crawled into my hermit cave eighteen months ago in the first place. Finally mustered a sliver of courage to venture out in January and was beaten over the head with a big stick (aside: not for real, just a bruised psyche after being made to feel like shit by a jerk). Crawled back into the cave to nurse my wounds and doubt I will be out again any time soon.
Given this blog is supposed to be about my writing journey, all of the above begs the question, what did the experience/dreams mean for that? Easy. I channelled my disappointment into the creative writing. Wrote four scenes in three days and they were good, better than good. I sat back after I was done and thought wow where did that come from? It was inside of me in the dark recesses of my mind and now it is on a page.
Why do I write well when I am in a less than charitable mood? Better I suppose that I pour those raw emotions onto a page than towards some unsuspecting passerby. There is always a plus side to every bad experience - mine seems to be the quality of my writing elevates to a whole new level!
The bad experience and associated dreams also sparked my ideas bank. Woke up yesterday morning after the third sun dream in a row with the detailed structure on how to end the book I am writing at the moment (even though I still have five chapters to write). The outline for its ending was written a long time ago (you always have to know roughly where you are heading when writing any novel), but this was a blow by blow description racing through my head.
My pen almost ran out of ink writing things down in my bedside notebook such was the frenzy of frantic scribbling to record the words. Gotta write fast before that early morning half-awake state takes you back to slumberland, or you instead try and remember the details of your vivid though rapiding fading dream. By the time you are alert, all of it can be gone, replaced by a greyness that matches the sky outside your window.
Long weekend ahead of me. I'll see a movie, see a play, read some, and write to my heart's content. The sunshine somehow finds a way to penetrate the cave walls and warm me.