And I dreamt.
In those short bouts of sleep, my unconsciousness ran rampart. I had dreams of castles in clouds of silver. I dreamt of murder and suspects. Long involved chases and gardens filled with flowers. I saw old friends and we laughed and talked.
And one early morning I awoke with another chapter of E2 written.
I do not mean I dreamt that I wrote a chapter, as if I was viewing it from afar. No. I actually wrote a specific chapter of my novel in the dream. I saw the words as clearly as I would see them on the laptop screen I’m staring at in front of me right now. The entire 5,000+ words of the chapter, all in my head, mapped out in detailed, repeated over and over in an endless cycle: edited, refined, encapsulated an amazing breakthrough for which I had been waiting.
All bow before the creativity of a cooked brain.