I once had a dream. I remember the dream felt like a movie blockbuster. There was action, suspence and a fantastic story. I remember thinking in the dream that this would make a great film (don’t worry dreams are like that). The dream ended and so did my sleep. I slowly woke up, still thinking about the awesome dream. Gradually the plans and practicalities of the day ahead loomed into thought. The dream drifted to the periphery of my thought, but I still wanted to record what had happened.
I got washed, dressed and went downstairs to the desk that had my pens and paper ready to write the basic outline of my fantastic dream story. As I approached the desk I searched my mind for the story, reached out into my subconscious, grasping futilely. The idea was gone.
“Every composer knows the anguish and despair occasioned by forgetting ideas which one had no time to write down.”
Hector Berlioz
I now keep a notebook and pen next to my bed. I have never had that dream again, however, perhaps writing this post will enable my subconscious to leak it into my dreams again.