Failure of the Day: Subconscious

Seriously, the dreams I’ve been having this week are completely out of hand. You’d think I was back on the nicotine patch. (Did you know that the patch really fucks up your dreams? There’s even a warning on the box that says if the dreams get too intense while you’re on the patch it’s OK to stop wearing it at night. But doing that seemed like a pretty direct route to some hellish mornings, and in my own personal arithmetic, I’d rather sleep through hell than wake up to it.)

Last night I dreamed I was at a bar in Seattle called the 6 Arms. The 2002 NaNoWriMo beginning and end parties were held there, and in my dream, I was having a NaNo group meeting. There were several people sitting around a big wood table discussing the mosaic novel were going to write together for NaNo (which, c’mon, is already a pretty great idea: 6 people working on one 300k word novel).

Here was my idea for the mosaic novel:

A gang of superheroes (each one would be penned by a different member of the group) made up of parallel universe Frank Sinatras. You’ve got your female Frank Sinatra and your black Frank Sinatra and your queer Frank Sinatra and so on. The Super Sinatras home base is in the Mount Rushmore area, where their super powers are fueled by the collective rage of indigenous peoples all over the world.

Everybody in my dream totally hated the idea and said it was “too obvious.” I kinda like it though.