Dream Report

Dreamt last night I had a mostly-completed novel. Unfortunately all I can remember this morning is that the protagonist’s mother was an eccentric mid-20th-century socialite known to everybody, including her daughter, as “That Magnificent Bitch" -- Grey Gardens levels of feral, had some kind of eating disorder and seemed to live mostly on alcohol and small amounts of possibly raw meat. At one point she gravely and bluntly advised her daughter on how to endure tedious or painful situations by alternating detailed fantasies of food and detailed fantasies of sucking cocks. Apparently alternating between the two was key, and so was ratio: two cocks to every dish, I think, was her recommendation.

Oh wait, also Winston Churchill showed up at one point. He and his wife (to whom he spoke in sign language) were confronting That Magnificent Bitch about something, possibly her having broken into their house.

Part of me was thinking “Wow, this is terrific stuff” and another part was thinking “If this gets published, my mom will read it.” A third part was thinking it might be good to shock my mom.

And then I woke up into another dream, in which I was trying to frantically make notes on the novel, but there was a feral cat colony living under our couch.