I was making progress on my WIP last night, but 25 more pages into it I had to stop. My head was killing me, and the ideas were not flowing. The blinds were banging. Kids were screaming outside. The TV was going. The dogs were barking just because they've mastered the art. I need it quiet when I write. I finally stopped what I was doing, stuck in a pair of earplugs, and went to bed.
Here's where it got good.
I had a dream. It was an awesome dream in which I was writing. Normally if I were to dream about work, I'd demand that someone pay me overtime, except that I don't consider writing work. If anything it's my way of unwinding after I get home from a long day of sifting through paperwork, solving problems and occasionaly thinking in a different language.
In my dream I wasn't only writing my current WIP, I was in it.
Surely, every writer out there has wanted to play a key role in their own novel, be the protagonist, the lover, the villain, etc.
We all love to pretend.
"If they ever make a movie, that'll be me," I joke to myself. Dreams are what keep the ideas soaring.
I've fallen asleep at night and prayed, "let me be in my book tonight, oh pretty please. It would be so much fun."
Last night it happened.
I was on Pantheas. That's where Craven lives. He wasn't always called Craven. I've known him since I was 10. Our relationship has evolved drastically during the years. Characters tend to change as we grow older. Anyway, he was showing me around his home, making me privy to all of their projects, pointing me out to his people. I sat on the council with all the world leaders, stared into their eyes. There was a sense of belonging. My characters were so vivid, so real, as only a dream can make them.
When I'm in the process of writing, I imagine these people, the way they look and act, how they reason. I know everything about them, what moves them, how to make them forgive or kill, laugh or love. (Wouldn't it be wonderful to know so much about our fellow human beings?) Craven looks fabulous wearing nothing but a string of emeralds...just a warm up game we play. His best friend Damon is the most flirtatious and crass character I've ever created, yet somehow they function perfectly together.
I've asked my co-workers countless times what their version of heaven is, specially when the whole rapture thing came around. Some say it's fishing or golfing. Others speak of eating and drinking. More still bring up men, women, sex.
My heaven is on Pantheas. It always has been. It's the one place in the entire universe where I will never be judged.
Maybe that's why I write the most, to share my heaven with others.
What's your version of heaven?