Nearly four years ago, I woke one morning with a vivid scene from a dream hanging inside my head. Most nights, I dream crazy shit, but forget it all before I wake. This was different. And rich.
I ran for a pen and paper. Later, I used the scene as the jumping off point for a story that, recently, found public display at The Lowestoft Chronicle. It’s a web journal dedicated to tales of travel.
The story that emerged from my dream became “One Night Only.” It’s absurd, from start to finish, as dreams always are. I took the remembered part of an actual dream and used it as the diving board for a plunge into a litany of imaginative nonsense.
I love the story, because of its non-traditional narrative arc. There is no plot, just nonsense. The reader, I hope, sticks with it, to see where each inexplicable moment will lead. True to form, these moments lead to other inexplicable moments, inside which, a weird logic prevails. How can things make sense while making no sense at all?
Here’s to the spirit of fun. BTW, I was under no chemical influence at the time I wrote this piece. Proof, if ever it was needed, that we don’t need no stinkin’ drugs to act like we’re on drugs. Herewith, “One Night Only.”