Sometimes, when I have a vivid story-like dream that I can remember in the morning when I wake up enough to be able to mention it here on this blog and utilize later for a piece of fiction, I can take pretty good guesses at why my brain might be in the space that created such a dream. Others, I have absolutely no idea. Last night’s dream was definitely of the latter category, but it was a lot of fun. If a bit confusing.
Basically, my dream followed the exploits of a spunky, rambunctious young lady, very much in the vein of Catherine, Called Birdy, who lived in an English manor in the woods with her family of sisters (and here it seems to take on a faint Austen inspiration). She’s not at all the type of girl to want to be quiet and complacent, much rather preferring to go trekking through the woods or causing mischief with her best friend, a young man who very naturally falls a little in love with her. The time period is vague and changing: in some respects, it was a little Medieval, but, for the most part, it seemed very fitting of the early 1800s, which was the setting of my last book, but that location is entirely different.
And then there’s the car. Ohgod, the car. Not long before I woke up, I kid you not, the girl, her friend, another gentleman, and two of her sisters to go out on a little trip, and so they gather their things and get into a nice, big 1950s style Cadillac. This is the point where I wonder where my brain is on. They refer to it as their metal carriage, and, thankfully, one of the older sisters has been given the privilege of knowing how to drive stick. They then drive off down the thickly forested path, onto whatever adventure awaits them, and I wake up wondering if I should avoid having a bite of sushi right before bed next time. I’m left thinking of the ending of Monty Python and the Holy Grail and the sheer WTF-ery of Danny and Sandy driving off in a flying car at the finale of Grease…
And the interesting thing is that I actually really want to write this now. Very Austen in setting, dress, and perhaps even style, though I’m not much of a fan of Austen (blasphemy, I know), but then there are odd, analogous technology and detail thrown in and thought nothing of. Of course these proper English ladies will have a Cadillac that they take into town. Of course our heroine gets scolded for playing too much Super Mario Brothers. Do I even need to mention the espresso machine?
It’s all quite silly, but it was an extremely amusing idea. Definitely one for the vaults.
Last night I had a dream about Smurfs. Not going to write about that….dreams can be so strange sometimes.
Yeah, sometimes they can be pretty useless as story fodder, but other times, I feel like I couldn’t even ask for a better treasure trove of plots!
Did the paint job on the Cadillac get scratched driving down the wooded path? May I also suggest that if you write the story use a 1956 el dorado.
Ahahahahaha, 1956 el dorado it is! And I think that could be a big plot point; the paint gets scratched, and they know their father will be so cross with them!