Going Inkless

     Some stories come to you out of nowhere, demanding to be committed to paper.  Some characters just drop in on you like unexpected house guests and take up residence in your skull until you agree to tell their tale.  I think that every writer has probably experienced this kind of inspiration.  It's what moves many to embrace the calling.  Later, at times when the writer sits down to consciously create something, it can be maddeningly frustrating that similar inspiration isn't on the same timetable.      But those flashes of ideas aren't really from nowhere.  Although the concepts may seem new to you, they are really the product of your own brain working without your conscious direction.  It's a feat of ordinary magic that your mind takes in disparate elements from your life and your environment, mixes them together and presents you with something you didn't even realize you were thinking about.  We all do this, write...

     I dreamt I was in bed one morning, lying awake, trying to get the last few minutes of rest before the alarm would ring.  Lists of what I would do for the day came rushing up.  They compiled themselves in steady ticks like an old printer spitting out one line, then another.  Still, I determined to stay prone, squeezing out every moment to which I was entitled.  I planned to hit the snooze alarm when the clock would blare.  I calculated the number of minutes that would buy me, the number it would leave me on the other side of the morning- how long I would have to get ready for work, and what I could do to compress the necessary tasks into the new timeframe.  I knew I wouldn't sleep anymore, but I was stubborn and wouldn't compromise the sleep time even if I wasn't using it for the intended purpose.  But I was.  Sleeping.  Sleeping and dreaming of not sleeping and wishing I was sleeping.      Sleep deprivatio...

     The perfect thing to write about struck me suddenly the other morning.  It was a bolt of inspiration, like opening a door into Springtime.  The subject was one of those new truths that bubbles up from time to time, distilled out of suffering and experience left to simmer quietly over time.  Like many such revelations, it was profound, yet simple, a shift of thought that welcomed peace and happiness into the soul.      All was there in that quiet moment.  This one harmonious chord was accompanied by the phrasing and ideal words to be able to share the secret with any who were open to the idea.  I determined immediately that I would put it all down on paper the minute I woke up. Yes. It came to me in a dream.      Cliché, certainly, but cliché for a reason.  There isn't a culture on this earth that hasn't placed some importance on what goes on behind our eyelids when we go to sleep.  Even bey...

I dream of dogs. Often. Their presence in my dreams is a reflection of their presence in my life. They've been with me since the start, as regular a part of my family as a sister, a mother, a grandmother. In fact, because my father's truck driving job frequently took him away from home for days or weeks at a time, I've actually logged more days with a dog at my side than a dad. To put it in their way of seeing things, dogs are part of my pack, and my world feels unbalanced without them. I know this bond has been a natural habit for humankind since cavemen first took wolf pups into their den. We are both social animals. On that primal level, we think alike. We share our lives. We work together. We comfort each other. We are family. Many have weighed in on the subject of this ancient association. Here in modern times when the connection results in a pet relationship more often than a working relationship, the opinions often fall in the extremes. On one side, t...