When I was seven years old, I was the most famous ballerina in Brooklyn. Well, in our house, anyway. I had a pair of royal blue silk bedroom slippers whose open-toed and wedge-heeled construction permitted me to twirl about en pointe without damaging my feet. Last night I dreamed I was once again dancing, wearing shiny pink satin ballet shoes laced up with equally shiny pink ribbons. It seemed very real to me, so I’m glad I didn’t have a different type of dream.
Dreams have been a source of fascination for millenia. I would rely on the prophet Daniel for an interpretation rather than Freud, but since I have neither of them at hand, I prefer to muse about the meaning on my own. My dream had a lot more to it (often they are full-length productions with a beginning, middle, and end, in color, with dialogue, etc.) but for the sake of brevity, simply put, this was a happy dream, expressing a sense of exhilaration.
At the Florida Writers Association’s annual conference last October, presenter Jamie Morris (www.WoodstreamWriters.com) conducted workshops on writing prompts, and one day the suggestion was to write a dream sequence. I’d never tried that. I was surprised to find what it stimulated. For example, I wrote from the POV of a young, male mountain climber. (What? Where did that come from?)
Thanks to Jamie, dreams play an important role in the life of my main character in Slippery Slopes, the novel I’m now revising. My suggestion to you today is to write a dream sequence, perhaps incorporating it into something you’re currently working on, or just take twenty minutes and write an isolated vignette. Who knows? It may be just what you need to exhilarate you. Of course, you can try dancing on your toes . . .
Just make sure you don’t go shopping in your underwear.