Tell Us Your Dreams A2K

Well, for pete's sake. Look at your avatar. You 'belong' in a glamorous 1920's murder mystery. Are you wearing a red dress???

Actualy yes. Have you ever seen that movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit?

< That's Mrs Jessica Rabbit.

Seen it.

OK, I'm going to give you a little bit of my murder mystery dream. The perspective is strange as for much of it it was viewed from somewhere floating above, sometimes from the view of the detective, sometimes myself. It gets a little gruesome in places so I wont go any further than this for now, but if you want any more just say so.

The detective was nondescript. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium height. A thoroughly unremarkable character. He was in the hotel for reasons of his own, just passing through on his way to some case, he never said what it was. He didn't ever say much about himself at all. His age was unguessable, anywhere between thirty five and sixty, not handsome, not ugly, if you saw him in public your eyes would glide right over him. He was the perfect man for the job...

Hey, now that's a great start to a mystery novel! Specially the last three sentences.

Thanks, Soz. You'll still have to tell me if you want to read the gruesome bits. I would not wish to offend anyone with my disturbed mind!

IMO, everyone's dream can, in the end, only be interpreted by the one who dreamt it. Sometimes it is just in fun (dancing in an empty night club, watching the moon! ), sometimes it's cleaning out some thoughts from the day (A2K threads) and sometimes it's something we are trying to work out that can be assisted during sleep by accessing our sub-conscience.

I had a dream the other night about being on one of those big metal swing sets. The old fashioned, sturdy kind that schools used to have - like 15 feet tall, so the chains were long and you could really go high. My daughter and I were swinging next to each other and trying to go higher and higher. The breeze felt good. We were both smiling and enjoying the ride.

I could interpret that as having a good relationship with my daughter, even though she's now 15 and should be rebelling, and that we are both enjoying this time in our lives. The ride is good, and we are soaring through the teen years ... so far so good. (Yes, I'm knocking on wood, crossing my fingers, and all that good stuff)

Or, I could attribute it to having had a discussion the day before with her about why schools no longer have swing sets and how she said she wished they wouldn't worry about injuries and just let kids have some fun since that is one of her favorite things from childhood, and I had agreed with her about how fun it was to swing.

Really have to know everything going on in order to properly identify all of the aspects of a dream.

Oops! Sorry fortune, please continue.

Alrighty then... (don't say I didn't warn ya)



It happened at night. On one of the higher floors of the hotel (don't ask me which one, I didn't stop the dream to count, but it was expensive looking) a scream rang out. Doors opened up and down the corridor and heads began popping out, looking for the source of the noise. Some of the curious wore the tell tale signs of disrupted repose, sleep fogged eyes and rumpled night clothes, others had about them the look of those who rarely wasted the luxurious tumult of night in trifling slumber.

A man, young, uniformed and frightened-looking, hurried up the thick red carpet to to a door roughly halfway down the corridor. There he skidded to a halt and knocked hastily on the wooden panelling before him. "Mrs, ____," he called worriedly (I don't think I dreamed up a name for her, just put in whatever you like) "Mrs ____, what's the matter? Is there something wrong?"No answer met him but a wailing, keening moan from within the room.

Another man, older, fatter, came hurrying to the door. This man had keys. The door was opened and the two hotel employees hopped quickly into the room. On the floor of the room knelt a sobbing woman, a little lap dog crouched, scared, in the corner. In the woman's arms was a swaddled baby.

"No, please," wailed the woman, looking up to the two men. They crept closer, concern written on their faces. "Please. No!" she held out her arms to the two men, showing the little infant to them. "My baby!" she said, "He's dead!"

Upon inspection, it was known immediately that the child had been killed by human hands (don't ask me how, I aint no forensic doctor!).



So, tired of this yet? Cause it's really long and I aint typing it all if noone wants to hear how it turns out.

Now I HAVE to know!

(And, maybe it won't seem such a burden if when finished you transfer it to the Writers forum)

So then...?

Writer's forum?

A2K "Your Original Art & Writing" section. Just an idea so you could get double use from your effort.

But, meanwhile, back at the hotel...

(Aren't we in the Original Writing section? )

The management knew that this could ruin them. If news of this murder got out without a satisfactory explanation, without an arrest, they'd never book another guest again.

The owner of the hotel was wide awake and frantic, the detective was called. He seemed not at all disturbed at being woken in the middle of the night with a request to investigate a murder. It was doubtful that anything would disturb the equanimity of this man. After brief consultation with the police he got to work.

Every soul who had been on that floor, barring the grieving mother, was assembled in a large room (presumably some function room), and in the opulent surroundings of the hotel he began questioning them all.

Most he immediately discounted for his own infathomable reasons. Gradually the group was whittled down to a handful of guests. One, an aging woman was present with her grown-up son, a tall young man whom she said had suffered an illness as a child which had affected his brain and reduced him permanenty to the intellect of a four or five year old. Also present was a movie star (for some reason he came up looking like Denis Leary), a very cocky and unpleasant sort (not that I actually think that about Denis Leary, it's just his A**hole song). Then of course there was me.

I was thinking the same thing until i saw which forum we were in. Why is this thread in the original writing forum?

The ways of the Moderators know no let or hindrance - or the author put it here?

PANZ. Where are ya?

I put it here because your dreams are so original. Besides, it wouldn'nt fit anywhere else. Anybody have a suggestion where to move it to?

BTW eoe, your dream really hit me hard.

Everybody left!

Turns and shuffles away...

Well, I think we all need to go to sleep tonight before we can add more to the topic. Here, have a pillow.