Last night, I started composing a story based on a dream I had last week. It's a dreamy sort of story (pun intended); horror, I think. The genre I don't usually write. I hesitate to say it will be a literary sort of horror, because I don't really know what that is, but I'm going to go out on a limb and compare it to James Blaylock's later works. It's a ghost story. And it even has a working title.

The funny thing is, I haven't written a word. This one's going to be one of those stories that need to steep a bit before birth; that I need to ease into and not rush. It might take me a while to write it, but it's going to be on my mind a lot.

And the notecard (as yet unwritten) will go into my Idea Jar, to be pulled out at some later date.

Another funny thing? I neglected to write down the details of that dream, but they're as clear to me now as they were when I first awoke that morning. The story involves a lake, what lives in the lake, the narrator's drowned sister, and a long-ago vacation to an odd little spot. It might be interesting. It might be hokey. And I'm looking forward to giving it birth.

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