Failure of Imagination

Last night I dreamed I drowned.

No. I dreamed I was writing a story about my drowning. But the details of it were so vivid, red in their terror, that I would have had to actually drown to know how to describe drowning so well.

After I drowned, I could see my husband walking from the beach back up to our house. He fell down in the sand a couple of times and I wondered if he was fatigued from trying to rescue me or overcome with grief.

It was then, in my dream, that I decided I couldn’t continue writing the story of my drowning because it was too sad. There would be no peaceful resolution, no messages of triumph or hope, there would just be a cut-off limb, an amputation, and I didn’t know how to write about that so I woke.

 

 

 

 

 

3 thoughts on “Failure of Imagination

  1. I once dreamed that I murdered someone and every morning I woke up feeling ecstatic about the prospects of a new day, only to have the realization hit me that I’d once taken a human life–and I would fall into despondency. In the dream I woke again and again to this realization. It was horrible and I wondered if this is at all how a murderer would feel.

    Liked by 2 people

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