The Big Red Truck
By Timothy Dennis - August 29th, 2010My dreams tend to be non-events. I can go months without recalling a single one, and when I do get a grasp on what my mind has been up to overnight, it's often murky at best. It's only every once in a while that I have a vivid dream that sticks with me, sights, sounds and all. Those dreams usually suck.
I've had dreams where I'd be waiting in line for this great big new roller coaster, even though I hate roller coasters. Everyone around me would be talking the thing up, like it's the greatest roll ever to coast, and I'd actually get sort of excited about the thing. Then after I got on, it would go up a hill and come back down, and I'd be ordered to get off. "Go fuck yourself," says my subconscious.
The other night I had a dream where I was frantically working on a project. I was in this dark cabin and I was poring over something I had drawn, carefully making little adjustments here and there. Whatever it was, the world had to see this, and it had to be perfect, otherwise it felt like my life was a waste. My obliquely assigned dream emotion was very intense, even though I'd yet to grasp what it was I was feverishly sweating to complete.
It turned out to be a shitty children's book called "The Big Red Truck." I'd gotten all up in a dream huff over plagiarized children's literature. My mind couldn't even come up with a placeholder for a good project, just derivative pap. Two seconds on Google brings up a million of the exact same thing. Very disheartening indeed.
The thing is, I never do anything. I think about getting all sorts of projects off the ground incessantly, but what comes out mostly is "Hey, I'm going to get stuff done soon," and "Oh boy, I've really got to get going," and that includes this entry. If my mental innards have taught me anything it's that I absolutely cannot function creatively on auto-pilot. I need to take the stick, push some buttons and do a loop or two. Otherwise I really should go fuck myself.
I've had dreams where I'd be waiting in line for this great big new roller coaster, even though I hate roller coasters. Everyone around me would be talking the thing up, like it's the greatest roll ever to coast, and I'd actually get sort of excited about the thing. Then after I got on, it would go up a hill and come back down, and I'd be ordered to get off. "Go fuck yourself," says my subconscious.
The other night I had a dream where I was frantically working on a project. I was in this dark cabin and I was poring over something I had drawn, carefully making little adjustments here and there. Whatever it was, the world had to see this, and it had to be perfect, otherwise it felt like my life was a waste. My obliquely assigned dream emotion was very intense, even though I'd yet to grasp what it was I was feverishly sweating to complete.
It turned out to be a shitty children's book called "The Big Red Truck." I'd gotten all up in a dream huff over plagiarized children's literature. My mind couldn't even come up with a placeholder for a good project, just derivative pap. Two seconds on Google brings up a million of the exact same thing. Very disheartening indeed.
The thing is, I never do anything. I think about getting all sorts of projects off the ground incessantly, but what comes out mostly is "Hey, I'm going to get stuff done soon," and "Oh boy, I've really got to get going," and that includes this entry. If my mental innards have taught me anything it's that I absolutely cannot function creatively on auto-pilot. I need to take the stick, push some buttons and do a loop or two. Otherwise I really should go fuck myself.
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