A few nights ago, I had a vivid dream. I was invited to Florida to meet Kelle Hampton. I knew I had to be dreaming when I agreed to go. I once saw a Palmetto bug in the Museum of Natural History, and that was enough to keep me on the opposite coast FOREVER.
When I arrived, I was greeted by my subconscious’ version of members of her family: her husband, sister, and father. The sister seemed embarrassed and uncomfortable, Poppa was positively smug. Kelle herself was not there, for she was out with the kids, taking pictures for her next blog post. I was escorted to a well-appointed table for dinner, but overcome with paranoia I excused myself to use the restroom. There, I checked my dream version of Poppa Rik’s blog on my phone and saw that he had just posted “The trap is set! The bitch is here!” and the title of his post was “Mrs. Odie is Going Down!”
(Odie snickers, “That was MY dream!”)
The dream got murky there, as dreams do, but somehow I escaped that set up and reunited with my husband. In my dream, he was being played by actor Edward Norton, which was a delightful surprise. Not scary “American History X” Ed Norton, but more along the lines of “Rounders” Norton. Edward/Odie presented me with dream Kelle’s latest book. It was pink with a lace overlay tied with a pretty little silver metallic bow. It looked like a wedding invitation. Inside, a chapter titled “Mrs. Odie is a Bitch” revealed my true identity.
“Mrs. Odie’s real name is: Carrie White.”
I remember being completely freaked and then relieved in a heartbeat because that is NOT my name.
Arthur C. Clarke wrote, “The mind has labyrinthine ways of going about its business.” When I woke up, I had to chuckle. I’ve been working on my novel the past few weeks and I’m simultaneously reading Stephen King’s “On Writing.” Carrie White is the name of the protagonist in his first novel.
I realize that by posting this, I’m opening myself up to all kinds of amateur dream analysis. My therapist would say “Everyone in your dream is you,” so I am both my harshest critic, my own accusor, and my hero. And apparently, I’m Edward Norton.
I had a text conversation with my dad earlier in the day that also set me up for a dream dealing with daddy issues. He’s casting the latest show he wrote, and emailed me pictures of the “drop-dead gorgeous” twenty-somethings they picked. It triggered all kinds of I’m not good enough feelings and made me melancholy. Still, I’m glad my father issues are what they are rather than anyone else’s. I wouldn’t want him telling people we share the same spleen and feeling like he needs to come to my defense or my offense. If he reads my blog, he has never mentioned it except to tell me he thinks I’m a great writer, and he would never tell me I can’t fucking swear.
In my dream, I was horrified at the prospect of being outed, which will happen someday. I got over that terror and accepted the inevitability with resignation. As I said, I’m writing my novel and I will probably publish under my name. It’s a trilogy, I’m writing. There is a love triangle. A beautiful young woman is in love with a kinky, dominating billionaire and a sparkly vampire. Before she chooses her lover, she travels back in time and has to fight to the death on a reality show where the prize is the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms. It’s like nothing you’ve ever read. Working title: Fifty Shades of Hungry Outlandish Twilight Thrones. Available for preorder soon.
And whenever I go to the prom, I spend the whole time looking up.