Congratulations, Sheila, you're the winner of the 1988 4-H Fair Tomato-Growing Contest

[sovay]

I dreamed last night that I was writing a story for ashlyme. All I can remember is a garden and sunlight on a web of raindrops. Some bricks. A painted door. And something dead, but I don't think that's unusual for either of our stories or dreams.

Comments

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

Along with tomatoes, Sheila's been growing dreams, I see. (Where does your subject line come from?)

[strange-selkie.livejournal.com]

*gets the salt* Hi! You should write it.

[ashlyme.livejournal.com]

I'm flattered (and it reminds me *I* owe you a story outside dreams). One of us (or both?) should do something with this!

ETA: was the dead thing behind the door, I wonder?

[sovay]

(Where does your subject line come from?)

Cake Like, "Sweet 15." rushthatspeaks introduced me to the band on Monday night with "Suck" (which I am still hoping they'll write about) and like a sensible person I promptly went out and internet-stalked all their music I could find. They're excellent. I recognized the bassist/singer from her comedy work with The State.

[edited for preposition]

[sovay]

Hi! You should write it.

I thought of this! Pre-emptive exorcism appreciated!

[sovay]

One of us (or both?) should do something with this!

I will see if I can make anything of it, and if not, maybe it was supposed to be your dream instead.

was the dead thing behind the door, I wonder?

I don't know! It drained very quickly out of my head on waking.

[sovay]

I will see if I can make anything of it

This happened.

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

Excellent! They are a sound that, if they hadn't created themselves, would have had to have been dreamed into existence. Thanks.

(Also STORY FROM YOU. Will read next work break. So glad you're writing stories. So. Glad.)

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

I'm glad it had such an excellent fictional result.

I'm having more dreams of collecting absurd fictional weapons.* Not sure I can use them for anything, but we'll see.

*A couple of nights ago I woke up remembering that I'd been living in a small flat, probably above a shop of some sort, in a city with bright sunlight outside and low buildings. Across the street was an antique shop, where I bought a battered rifle that represented a system for converting rifle-musket to breechloader that never existed in our world. It was called a Greene rifle, but hadn't much in common with our world's Civil War-era Greene rifle (beyond both being bolt actions). I don't think I wanted it for anything other than the historical significance and perhaps the diversion of restoring it, but it was odd.

[sovay]

I'm glad it had such an excellent fictional result.

Thank you.