Nightmares

I read something years ago that said children often have nightmares, but they grow out of them; adults only have them occasionally.

I was surprised to read this because I've had nightmares all my life. The night I don't have one would be the exception.

But the nightmares have been really bizarre since I came down with a respiratory virus shortly after Christmas.  And they've stepped up their vivid strangeness during my recovery period.

I know it's temporary. But - WOW!

And, no, they're too disjointed to use as fiction material.

Researchers still aren't sure why we dream and or the purpose of dreams. One theory that makes the most sense is that our brains are clearing out their "cache" while we sleep, which explains the random impressions of our lives that reassemble in very peculiar ways while we sleep.

Mostly I'm curious if anyone else reading this post regularly experiencing nightmares or has nightmares when sick. 

Thoughts?

The Satisfaction of Getting It Right

Editor's note: Tone may sound depressing to some. If concerned, skip the read.

Anyone who writes, or is perfecting a craft, often hears (or reads) how he or she is getting it wrong.

Articles with headlines of Ten Ways to Fill In Those Plot Holes, Five Darlings You Need to Kill Now, How To Hit That Daily Word Count, Writers: Stop Doing These Three Things Now all imply we need improvement in in these areas and more.

I'm all for self-improvement. But we rarely stumble upon articles that tell us when we're doing it right.

Well, one found me this morning.

Before I share it, one piece of advice to anyone who is working on a skill: strive for betterment but also seek out those reassuring signposts of progress and perfection.

My lone BryonySeries super fan has told me that a psychology student could write a doctoral thesis based on my books because the character development is that rich. 

While such a compliment is easy to wave away (as opposed to a general bad review that says I suck as a writer, which tends to hand around murkier than mist in Simons Woods), I read a gem of an article this morning that reinforced a nuanced part of Before The Blood in which I got something write.

And it feels good, especially since the book centers on how people live, how they die, and (especially) how they live in such a way to ruin their lives and wind up not quite in the afterlife.

In Before The Blood, one main character has a childhood nightmare that recurs in adulthood during times of great stress. The character always awakens from sleep calling for his mother.

In childhood, of course, she's there. In adolescence, she's there but not really. In adulthood, she's gone.

Here's my little win:

“A nurse from the hospice told me that the last words of dying men often resembled each other. Almost everyone is calling for ‘Mommy’ or ‘Mama’ with the last breath."

Illustration by Christopher Gleason for "Staked!" Follow him at artworkbytopher.com