dreams and stories

Years ago I had a crazy dream that played itself out over several weeks. Wait, that's confusing. Let me explain it this way: I had a dream one night. The next night the dream continued. And the next. And the next. It continued until the dream had become a story that I was living when I was alseep.

Of course, being the writer I am, I committed the story to paper and even began to "build it out." I began with just a couple of pages and the dream-turned-story became a several-page Word document that I would visit and add to whenever inspiration struck.

Fast forward four or five years and I'm browsing the local bookstore. A new novel by one of my favorite author's catches my eye. I buy the book and devour it in a day. And the similarities to my dream are uncanny. It's not compeltely the same, but it was eerily similar.

That's what I get for procrastinating.