I stopped dreaming about twenty years ago. By this I do not mean thinking towards a future, I mean the literal fashion of what your brain projects whilst you’re asleep. I wake in the morning having no memory of anything passing through my head. It’s been blank.
This is replaced by occasions during the day when I’m hit by random images from my imagination. They’ll flash past quickly and perhaps repeat later but they’re always vivid. If you think of the images in the deadly tape of The Ring then you’re getting there. Some of these end up in stories or scripts.
The latest featured a mist covered loch (or lake for you non-Scots out there) at night. The moonlight shone down and danced on the surface of the water. This is quickly broken by a group of people emerging from the depths. They wade towards the bank and walk across the sand and rocks. They appear perfectly normal apart from their eyes which look like glass marbles, jet black and glinting.
