I was reading a Tips and Tricks on Wattpad book (I try to read every single one I come across nowadays) when I noticed that one of the tips was to keep a journal/notebook close by so that you could write down all your ideas that would pop up randomly when you least expected it. Especially, the narrator went on to explain, by your bedside, so that you could scribble down something just when an idea struck you before bed and you didn’t want to try and remember in the morning. Or you could use it to record down your dreams too, before you forgot them.
And that got me thinking about my dreams. I have weird dreams. Doesn’t everyone? There’s always this recurring dream that I have of some guy that looks suspiciously like Tarzan wearing nothing but a thong, freefalling with his arms reaching out towards the light at the end of the long rock tunnel he’s falling through. Like Alice In Wonderland. I used to keep having that when I was about six, and it freaked me out.
There’s also another dream that I’ve had recently.
The dream is really. Freaky. I think I must be reading too many Battle Royale wiki pages already. My mind is being possessed by some bloodthirsty spirit.
Anyway, in my dream our entire grade was in a war. And by war I mean soldiers and guns and killing and blood. I saw a lot of blood. I can’t be sure about dead bodies.
I don’t remember the war part, only the post-war stuff. And there was one very vivid part, towards the end of the scene, that I remember really clearly. That part is the freakiest.
So what happened is that towards the end of the war, our side won, and we started collecting bodies and everything, for some reason. The war was taking place in this swampy place, with a river, I think, but there was land on one side and a river and on the other side of the rover, a thick, dense jungle. Bodies that for some reason looked brown and lumpy and human-shaped poop were being fished out of the river and stuff. And then I heard someone call, “Pierre’s (not his real name) dead!”
(Pierre: what I am currently calling the grade genius because of his capability to be amazing in every single freaking subject in class.)
And then we saw him laid out with glasses intact (somehow) and everything. And then we were all shocked, and grieved over his loss for a long time. Then someone cremated his body and made an altar to him.
That’s when I woke up.
At first I went, “Whoa.” And then, because in the morning my brain tends not to work, “why do I hate Pierre so much that I decided to kill him off in my dreams?”
That’s just one small example of how idiotic my brain is during the morning, after an especially mind-numbing class, et cetera. Then there was this other one time after an especially mind-numbing extra lesson (told you!) when I spotted a colleague of my dad, and waved to him. When he didn’t recognize me, I went, “Unh… unh… I’m my father’s… daughter?”
Ahahaha soooo funny.
I sound like Prince Charming in this video clip right here – but I digress.
That aside, my dream would make a very good story. I remember this other ‘group contribution’ story that someone created. But anyways the plot was based on a dream of an alien attack or something, but that was years back. And people had to die, but when we asked the whole grade to contribute no one wanted to offer themselves up for sacrifice. Everyone wanted to write from their perspective. I think I tried to voice the perspective of one of my fashion-obsessed, clean-freak friends, Willow, and mimicked her in the form of a cliche shallow popular teenage girl. And when we were eleven, these two other girls Tori and Harlow (not their real names!) and I wrote a story that was in the form of one of those cliche teen high school novels, with us being the popular clique and the main characters. The novel was basically all about our shallow love lives and partying and teenage awkwardness.
Don’t judge, ‘kay? I mean, we were only eleven and young and naive at the time.
I think now I’ll keep a notebook next to my bed to jot down my story ideas before bed.
P.S. If you want to read a teen fiction novel that will leave you, literally, rolling on the floor in fits of laughter, please check out Not All Blondes Do Backflips by CrayonChomper! I think she’s amazing!