Words and Scenes from Dreamland

I manged to capture some snippets of my dreams tonight for future fiction fodder.

An unequaled, unparalleled rendering that held no answers.

Are you looking for a new subculture; being gay is a subculture. 

I ran into a friend while hiking in the middle of nowhere. Not the middle of nowhere like a place you would visit on purpose.

It’s not the middle of nowhere, it’s a rural suburb, it’s not a place you go, it’s a place you happen to be.

We didn’t see the slow moving traffic through the snow until we tried to pass the snow plows at the bottom of the hill.

Not everybody wants to be a place like this for the holidays, I am sorry.

The boy wandered off and onto a less used fork of one of the many moon lit trails just as the snow resumed falling. When dawn came individual’s from his groups could be seen fanning out onto every trail but that one.

As it turns out, they hadn’t murdered him as intended, when they all fell from the tree, the trophy he’d been clinging to struck his head.

At least no one got hurt, aside from Henry dying, oh and George getting shot, oh and us getting stapled together.

As I came up from the basement I saw a dinner party in progress in what must have been an old retail shop to have so many windows in the middle of down town. The space seemed equally lit by both lights from within and without, including a small camp fire that was warming people on the edge of the street.