1. I had a lot of really vivid, very celebrity-oriented erotic dreams. The first of which involved James Marsters as Spike–as in the guy who was getting all hot and sweaty with me was a blond vampire with amazing cheekbones and not an actor (with amazing cheekbones) playing a blond vampire. No complaints there! That was all dreamscapey goodness. But then it segued into a shower scene where Matthew and I were sharing a shower stall with Will Smith–a very tall, and dressed in black Spandex Will Smith. And that was a bit strange as while I like Will Smith as an actor, he doesn’t twang my hubba-hubba buttons. And he was showering in spandex, which struck even my dream self as being somewhat peculiar.
2. 1000 words on my new horror story. Woohoo! But I ground to a stop after that like a switch had gone off in my writing-processor. Usually I sort of coast to a stop and jot down a few notes as a pick-up place for my next writing session. This time I came slammed to a “no-more-words” place like I’d hit a wall going 60 mph. It was weird, but I consider 1K in a sitting pretty good progress these days, so I shrugged, saved, and powered down.
I also didn’t take my Clonazepam last night, even though my arms have been tingling and aching more of late. I think it’s making my brain too fuzzy and I wanted to give my system a day or two off it. So I’m not sure if it was the meditation, the absence of benzodiazepam in my system, or both that allowed me to crank out another four+ pages of manuscript, but I’m willing to experiment.