I’m working on a story about a man in a shower. I had a dream about a man in a shower the other night and then I thought there was a man in the shower with me for a briefly startled moment the other morning afterward. A friend of mine used to call me whenever and only when I was in the shower, and I always wondered if he knew I was in the shower, and so called when I was, or, if there was just a random “call her now” moment that this friend experienced whenever I’d shower, miles away from where he was — some sort of “shower-telepethatic” moment.
Back to the story: no explosions, no daggers, no blood, no psychotic man in a wig. Just a man in a shower. I’m wondering about the ringing telephone as I write. Whether it should have portent of an explosion, a dagger, blood and worse, a man in a wig, or not. Might not be a bad experience, is my point, since the dream and the idea weren’t awful, but rather interesting in an amusing way…it had appeal and lacked trauma, even the suggestion of trauma. I wonder why it is that the occurance of trauma is appealing to many, while the idea of “organized calm and continuity” fails to often appeal.
That’s as far along as I am tonight and I am now word sparce, which doesn’t speak well of me.
The world has got me down tonight. And it’s hot. Water on my mind…