I've been wanting to write a book or maybe a set of short stories, but I guess I am afraid of failing. Of course, there is no bigger guarantee of failure than to not try. That being said, I have started 4-5 stories that Wife says could lead somewhere. Normally, you don't want your spouse being your biggest cheerleader as they are too close and could just be blowing smoke up my pooper, but Wife reads a lot of crappy novels, so she knows nerdy storytelling on paper. The strangest one I put to paper was directly from a dream, it was so real and lucid, I woke up like at 5:00am and wrote everything down I could think of. I had another one this weekend, and although I didn't write it down, it keeps coming back to me in scenes.
The first thing I remember is we had to break into some sort of castle. I remember like a John Goodman transforming into a rolling vehicle of some sort and taking us to the wall and basically throwing me and a secondary person. Maybe this other person was just the camera as I was seeing myself from an out of body experience. It seemed like the days of old, in England somewhere, but not really. I had somehow got in and disguised myself enough to make a ruckus with the queen's handmaidens. My mission was to infiltrate the royal court by helping this woman, with bright pink hair to be absorbed into a group of maidens that served the queen. They all seemed to have bright colorful hair of one shade or another, and the scenery was overall very bright. My lady in waiting was taken in and the next scene shows her bowing to a King and being explained that she is not a serf, she does not have to bow down, but she must avoid eye contact with all royalty. I was then taken abruptly to a large den which transformed into a hall where all sorts of men were being prepared to fight an oncoming army of some sort.
I saw a friar get tricked into joining the fighting men, and he just mumbled as he put on a metal helmet "This is where I belong, we all cometh as Dogs of Hell!!" He became a leader of sorts chanting all these inspiring and scary phrases which all the men ate up. The men started becoming one solid fighting machine, yet they were all individual men. Instead of metal armor though, they were dressed like 1950s gangsters, but with cartoonish features, such as they all had pointy shoulders. I was scared for myself, I did not belong, but I was caught up in the chanting and drumming getting louder and louder. They would hit a drum and they all snapped as one, leading with a shoulder walking sideways, then a loud drum and they would flip to lead with the other shoulder. I started hearing the rattling of chains and by now some of the men were even glowing with red eyes, I figured these were not all humans, but they were going to fight as one, the drums getting louder and louder and then the door started opening and light hit me in the face, I was sure I was going to die and one last lunge out the castle wall and I woke up because I had to pee.
I tried keeping my eyes closed and rushed to pee and get back in bed, but the drums and the dogs of hell left me behind. I have never been more curious where a dream was heading. Maybe this was in Spain, I mean England is not the only place where castles were built, and this was more of a fancy fortress than a castle. It had a courtyard the size of a football field, which is why I was able to sneak in, and the colors were so bright and beautiful. Even the men upon changing to whatever they were changing to, were in colorful tailored suits, not just shiny metal armor.
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