I’m annoyed at my sleeping self right now. I dreamed last night that I was tearing down a brick wall and found a fabulous old door that had been covered over and hidden for perhaps hundreds of years. It looked something like this:
One of those really old wood and metal ones. It was covered in torn cobwebs, and I knew that there quite possibly something eerie or wicked behind it. Why else would you barricade a door with iron and then bury it behind a wall of bricks?
And while I was dreaming this, I knew I was dreaming it, yet the Othermind still chose to walk away and not open it. Come on, Othermind! Here was a chance for free adventure, of the sort not frequently found in our waking life, and you walk us away from it?
Please. We might have been scared, had a zombie or monster jumped out at us in the dark, but we would have lived. And now we’re having to live with our infernal curiousity about what might have lain behind it. How is that better?
My Othermind does this sort of wimping out on me far too often when we’re asleep.
But on the more contented side of things, there’s definitely the nucleus of a story there….