The Word Cloud

Last night, I had one of my very coherent and vivid dreams. These dreams are both inspiring and a little bit scary in that I have no idea where they come from, and that they do not seem to behave in the way most people's do - no weird things happening in terms of physics (so no floating, no being able to fly, no walking through walls etc), there are no killer socks, no people turning into Alsatians halfway through etc - they're more like being in a film than dreaming, and they form the basis of many of my stories.

So, if you would bear with me, I'd like to share this one.

I was one of three people - there was me, an older man and an older woman. We were hiding under some undergrowth, and before us was a clearing, ringed with vergreen trees. In the centre of the clearing was a group of people - mainly children - being set upon by animals. Surrounding them was a baying crowd of people. Hey, I said my dreams were vivid, not nice...

Unable to stand just watching any further, myself and my two companions run into the clearing and start trying to rescue the children. But, for some reason, they all of a sudden turn on us and start fighting like savages. The ringleader of the crowd laughs and brandishes a vial, telling us that the children have been given some kind of serum that turns them in a blind, barbaric rage,  all so they get a better spectacle. My male companion grasps the vial and drinks it down, to the horror of the crowd - he is already a seasoned fighter, and so the effects of the vial are much more devastating in him. Whilst he turns into a whirling dervish, the crowd scatter and the children run away. A small baby is left on the ground, which my female companion and I scoop up before running away. Our male companion follows a little while after.

We travel together for a little while - the baby is suprisingly easy to take care of, but we have to find somewhere to rest and get some food and milk. So we stop off at a village, which, on the surface, seems a nice place. However, there is something sinister about the place... in the dream, I couldn't quite put my finger on it at first, but then it became apparent - there were no children there. At first, we wondered if this was due to their children being stolen from them, but then we found out that the village was the source of the trafficking. We then try to leave, but are stopped, and so hatch a plan to flee at night. This formed the bulk of the dream - smuggling goods and preparing to leave without the villagers realising what we're up to.

I woke up just as we got into our cart, ready to flee, so I don't know exactly how it ends.

I have to write them down, or they bug me no end. This also sets them apart from 'normal' dreams in that 'normal' dreams usually fade with the morning mist, but these ones hang around, nagging me, until I set them down for posterity. They are detailed and plausible (even the fantasy ones with dragons in them). It's like they want to be told.

Which in turn leads me to imaginary friends (bear with me - all will make sense in the end!) When I was a very little girl, I had an imaginary friend. He wasn't the kind of imaginary friend you'd imagine a little girl to have - he was a T.rex called Godzilla for one - but he went everywhere with me, much to my parents' exhaustion.

It was the beginning of a deep and abiding love for all things ancient - not just dinosaurs, but marine reptiles, ancient invertebrates, archosaurs... basically, if it isn't around today, I am fascinated by it. There is something about the inherent mystery of ancient life that sparks my curiousity like nothing else. So, in a way, it was inevitable that I would pass a bit of this onto my kids, so it's come as no surprise that at the grand old age of 2-and-3/4, my eldest has succumbed to the lure of all things dinosaurian.

But then it gets a bit odd. You see, Lucy now has an imaginary friend. And he is a T.rex. And, according to my mum, he behaves identically to Godzilla in every way. He is naughty and chases her, just like he was naughty and chased me. One minute he is 'giant big - look, he is looking into my bedroom window!', the next he is 'likkle likkle likkle, and there he is, in my hand'. Just like he used to do when he my my imaginary friend. This is particularly freaky for me, because the changing nature of Godzilla's / T.rex's size is something I have never talked to Lucy about, and yet it is there. With me, one minute he was as big as a house; the next, small enough to sit in my hand - just like Lucy. My mum says it's like having me around all over again.

What makes this even weirder is I actually remember Godzilla. Sure, I know he didn't really exist... but I still remember him being around. Drop Dead Fred, anyone?

Which leads me to the inspiration bit of this blog. Terry Pratchett once theorised that inspiration was a physical thing, sleeting through the universe, which blossomed once it found a head to nestle within. It's a motif that he revisits again and again (and uses it to explain the amount of ideas his character Leonard of Quirm has), and I have to admit, I do wonder sometimes if he is on to something. After all, what is inspiration? It's a devilishly squirmy thing to pin down. People are 'inspired' to do things... but how? Where in the brain does it take place? Why do some things inspire some and not others? Why are some people seemingly more prone to inspiration than others?

And why is it so bloody insistent?!

When I am 'inspired', I find I can barely concentrate on anything else until I do something about it (usually scribbling it down appeases it). Until I give it a little bit of life by writing it down (acknowledging it, if you will), it will occupy all my waking thoughts. There is something prima donna-ish about it all - 'pay attention to me of else!' - that is both frustrating and ultimately fascinating... and I do wonder if anyone else finds this. Is inspiration actually something independent of the people they inspire? Is 'the muse' actually something real? (And can be handed down through a family, as I seem to have bequeathed my imaginary friend to my daughter?)

So... inspiration. How are you inspired... and do you have to appease the inspiration gremlins so they won't take your life hostage?