So yesterday morning at 5:38 AM, I jerked bolt upright in my bed, sure I’d heard a noise. I live alone, so hearing a noise in my basement bunker of a house with locked doors and windows is a very bad thing. I have no pets, and as far as I know, my house isn’t haunted.
I almost immediately began to wonder if the noise I heard had actually been from the dream I was having, but my nerves were on fire, and I had to turn on my cell phone’s flashlight and shine it around. Just to be sure. Absolutely positive.
What dream was I having that caused such an unusual reaction in someone who has lived alone in much less secure places for the past 20+ years, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you.
Actually, no, I won’t. I’ll write a book about it. When I’m done with the bears, the next book will very likely be a new Charlie Rhoads thriller based on the whackadoodle dream I had that ended with me shining my flashlight around my bedroom to make absolutely sure I was still alone.
I can’t promise it will be the next book–I have three sequels clamoring for attention, plus the space RH with shifters–but it will be soon, because the idea is just too big and well-defined. The dream was a story, one of the most linear I’ve ever had, and it definitely sent a shiver up my spine.
Hopefully, it’ll do the same for you. And SOON. Mwahahahah.
