Dream diary

All people dream, many dreams and every night. The only problem is that most of us forget what we dreamt about. Imagine all the amazing stories we are forgetting every morning as we wake up.

That thought annoyed me slightly so I decided to do something about it. I have, for a while now, kept a dream diary. In it I write down all my heroic adventures, my love stories and the random happenings that shows up in my subconscious during those nocturnal moments of intense cerebral activity.

Since the diary is filling up at a fast pace I forget them almost equally quickly and I spent a few minutes earlier today browsing through it and was amazed by what I read. I found a few dreams that I’m sure would become great inspiration for stories some day, if only I took the time to write more on them.

Even if you have no ambition to write stories, a dream diary can be very interesting. I don’t really believe in the “if you dream of teeth rotting, you’re afraid of getting old” and all other set-in-stone interpretations of dreams. But I do believe you can learn from the dreams and that they don’t appear at random.

A dream diary is not such a bad idea as long as there is enough time in the morning to scribble them down. The trick is to do it before you start thinking about doing anything else. If I start thinking that I need to make some coffee or I have to remember that very important meeting/phone call later that day, all the good details get lost. I still might have the basic idea there but all the details get blurry. It gets better with time, just like any other daily habit it takes getting used to. At the same time as I open my eyes I reach for the notebook and the pen next to my bed.

My first notes in the dream diary are quite boring “Dreamt something about a car” but after a few months one first sentence looked like “I played golf with Dolly Parton in a hot air balloon that transformed into a desert and to my right there appeared a choir of teddybears singing Christmas carols, me and Dolly joined in the singing” and it went on for over half a page before the scene changed in the same dream.

The more details, feelings, colours, impressions etc. that you can get on paper, the more you can tell from your dream.

All that I really was curious about is if anyone else are keeping a dream diary or have done so in the past. How did you find the experience? Or have you been thinking of starting a dream diary and my ramblings about Dolly Parton and Christmas carols have scared you into hiding?

Dreams are illustrations... from the book your soul is writing about you.  ~Marsha Norman

Honest Scrap

I received a challenge and an award from the lovely BubbleBoo, over here, called Honest Scrap award. Thank you so much! In accepting this I am to reveal ten random things about myself, so let’s see how that goes.

- I would love to bungee jump but have a bad case of vertigo so I would probably faint before I actually managed to get high enough to actually jump. If I got the chance, I would really want to try it (along with a few other adrenalin inducing and probably very stupid activities)

- I dance and sing when I cook.

- One of my personal goals is to one day consider myself fluent in at least eight languages.

- My first crush was a bus driver named Markus. I was six years old and he drove me and my brothers home from school every day.

- My biggest pet peeve is native English speakers who can’t spell... I know it’s probably harsh, but I can’t help it.

- I think fish tanks and Kate Bush are two of the scariest things in the world. No, I’m not joking.

- I never gamble for money.

- I have dyscalculia which is like dyslexia, but with numbers and mathematical concepts and sequences. This gave me a lot of problems in school when I didn’t even know it existed. It takes me forever to write down phone numbers and addresses correctly since I need to check them many times and I can never trust my mental calculations of costs when I’m out shopping.

- I love red hair. The more ginger the better.

- I always laugh out loud when I write it online. (but my behind doesn't literally fall off during lmao and neither do I clean the floor while rofl)



The ten bloggers I pass along this Honest Scrap award to have been chosen because of your openness and honest writing:

Tales of a city
Red Rawlins
Astrid Paramita
Cat's Wire
The First Footsteps of Poetry
Quo Vadis Cowboy
Northern Light
Broken Cricket
Emma

and back to BubbleBoo, because she really deserves it.

A "real" post will hopefully come as early as tomorrow. I'm feeling inspired but I can't promise anything, to be honest.

Pulling my hair

A friend asked a long time ago what I do when I don’t have any ideas of what to write about. I realize now that the list I started doing in my head and the tips I gave my friend were good, but I really don’t follow them as much as I should. If I followed it, I would have had daily blog posts, at the very least. This is where I insert an apology and you all forgive me. Thanks!

My absence is just a temporary writer’s block. Nothing more serious than that.

Since I’m a terrible procrastinator and an incorrigible scatterbrain I have started writing many blog posts, but ended up never finishing or just not posting them here. I now have many half dissected subjects and ideas molding away in a folder on my computer. They’ll hopefully pop out of there eventually, when the time is right.
There seems to be a maturity process in my mind. I start thinking about something intensely, turn it over this way and that to see if I can understand it. I start brooding for a short while over not being able to figure it out and then I leave it. After some time, sometimes minutes, sometimes days, it all differs, I get one of those bulbs shining over my head and the oven timer says “ping” and then it’s done.

My biggest inspirations for lyric writing has always been the people in my life. It’s incredible the amount of things they make me see and understand, most of the time without knowing it themselves. I’m not sure how I can describe it in any other way than keep your eyes and ears open to the little things. The smallest sigh can definitely be more powerful than the loudest scream.

A thing I’ve learned from experience is to always, ALWAYS have a tiny notepad and a pen with you. If you can write on your phone or whatever you else you might prefer doesn’t really matter. It’s just that I feel more inspired with pen and paper. As long as you have something with you at all times to take down ideas as they come. Believe me, there’s nothing more frustrating than having a vague memory of the perfect phrase and just not being able to conjure it back again.

When I try to get forward on writing my book I use a lot of pictures. I go to Flickr (or any other similar place) where I can do some mindless picture browsing and click away without much thought. Eventually something happens, some connection is found, the wheels start turning and I’m back on track with the novel.

I have had many thoughts about what else could unblock the mind
- idea jar with random sentences or quotes or words or pictures.
- taking walks alone without music in your ears
- my ever so full dream diary
- reading everything and anything I can get my hands on
- mundane physical activity leaves the mind free to fly away. Don’t use that time to balance your checkbook. Use it to imagine, fantasize, daydream...
And so on...

I really wish I could make my writer’s block a moment of peace and new experiences but I think I fall into the trap of pulling my hair out in frustration, much like the rest of my fellow writing friends. But let me make a deal with you, if I haven’t posted anything here in a week, you get to choose a suitable writing punishment for me. How does that sound?

Now, since I hope I won’t have to make up a short story about crocodiles dancing ballet, write a poem about garlic or whatever else you might think up for me.. Until next time, enjoy your writers block, don’t curse it.

Alone vs Lonely

I wasn’t really planning on writing a blog post. I was happily ignoring almost all forms of communication when I suddenly realized that there’s nothing I’d rather do right now than to talk to someone.

I had not been very interested in internet communities and never really had the time for them until I moved to France. I understood that to stay sane I had to be able to get some type of breathing space. I had to find somewhere I could talk to people without having to struggle with insufficient vocabulary and lack of knowledge of grammar. Since I lacked a natural gateway to meet new (English or Swedish speaking) people in real life, I joined a few social network sites.

I wonder if it’s when you have no one to talk to, that’s when you need it the most and when you’ve gotten the habit of keeping to yourself it can be very difficult to share. Just a thought.

Much too often I hear people saying that they don’t like being alone. I know what they mean but I can help thinking that the definition of the word “alone” should be changed somehow. I know many people don’t agree with me. But since I’m the one writing here I will take my chance and throw my opinion out in the open anyway.

Being alone is a marvelous thing. No disturbing sounds and noises, you can listen to whatever music you want or just have it quiet, you can dance around in your home unseen (as long as you pull the curtains shut so you won’t put up a show for the neighbors) if that’s what you feel like.

I work (and function in general) best on my own, undisturbed. I have the ability to concentrate fully on the task at hand and switch to doing something else if inspiration pulls me in a different direction. I love the freedom it gives me to not have to adapt too much to those around me.

Loneliness for me is a different thing, it’s a state of mind and the times I feel most lonely are the times I’m being ignored when looking for contact or when I’m in a place with people that I feel that I have nothing in common with.

Sometimes the loneliness penetrates my alone time and I start brooding and worrying. I guess it happens to us all from time to time but it’s never an enjoyable experience. That’s when I should try to seek refuge with my online friends, but for some reason I stop myself, thinking they have enough worries in their lives and I need not add another. I have been trying to break this, but old habits die hard.

However, I am determined that alone physically is not the same thing as being lonely.

And to those who feel lonely I just want to give you a hug and say: You are not alone

The sounds of silence

I’ve been thinking a lot about sounds today. Those little sounds we have around us that we sometimes forget to notice and those sounds that we can’t help to notice no matter how much we try not to. You know what sounds I am talking about... The tap in the kitchen sink that just won’t stop dripping or that alarm clock on the night stand that seems to hit your head with every tick as you, in vain, try to fall asleep. But I don’t care much to talk about things like that now. I’d rather share a few of my favourite sounds.

My ten favourite (non-musical) sounds:
- The friction induced sound of crystal. (As long as it’s unintentional)
- Popping bubble wrap... But only if it’s me popping it.
- The sound a lift makes just before it stops. (Elevator, for those who don’t speak British English)
- When the vacuum seal breaks for my fine-grind coffee.
- The clicking noise from when someone is knitting.
- The turning of a page while reading a good book.
- Light rainfall on a window or tent canvas.
- Thunder. Slightly frightening, but oh so beautiful.
- Purring cats.
- Heartbeats, preferably listened to ear-on-chest. As close as possible to the source.

I love so many other sounds too, instruments and voices, rustling leaves in the wind, streaming wild water, the heavy “breathing” of my coffee machine, when someone is reversing up the driveway...

I don’t want to make any grand points, I would just like you to stop and listen for a moment to a buzzing bee or a laughing child and enjoy the rest of your day.
Thanks for stopping by.

Beautiful reader

Considering the fact that I haven’t written many posts and have been terrible at updating lately I was surprised, touched and incredibly honoured to find out that one of my dear friends on Plurk had given me an award. Thank you Cowboy for the award, your wonderful writing but most of all for your friendship.

As a part of my acceptance post I was supposed to include a list of seven unknown things about myself. Since I had some difficulty figuring out what to put in this list, I begged my Plurk friends to help me out and ask things they would like to know. Here’s the final result in Q&A format.

1
Q - When will you finally finish your book? (Angst)
A - I will finish my book when it’s done, and not a day before that. I’ve only been writing it for 5 months, so I think I’m allowed to take my time, even more so since it’s the first full-length novel I’ve ever written.

2
Q - If I gave you a ticket to anywhere in the world for a vacation, where would you go? (Tamsie)
A - Right now I’d go to the Maldives and see a friend of mine, relax and help him set up his recording studio.

3
Q - Do you regret any choices you've made? (Dooneybird)
A - I try not to regret any choices I’ve made in my life. I try (try!) to spend that energy on making the best out of a crappy situation instead.

4
Q - About what subject are you a snob? Music? Yarn? Furniture? Other? (Tamsie)
A - I’m a terrible lip-balm snob. I only use one brand that is developed by the Swedish National Defence. I have one at my desk, one in my bag and one next to the bed at all times - always ready and never without it. Apart from that I think I’m very flexible in my likings.

5
Q - Who influenced you to go into music as a profession? (Bronsont)
A - I’m not sure I can say that someone specific has influenced me in that decision. I remember when I was eleven (or was it twelve?) and I found my brother’s leaflet about career choices he had gotten from his school. In it I read that you could actually study music more than just take lessons in different instruments. The thought of being a “real” musician had never really dawned on me before that and I made up my mind on the spot.

6
Q - What's your favorite type of food? (Angst)
A - My favorite food is usually something I don’t have to cook myself since I like getting spoiled. (But taste wise it’s the other way around.) My favorite thing to do if I have a lot of time is Swedish meatballs. Not the type you get at ikea, but the ones I make myself.

7
Q - Do you eat Jelly babies head first or feet first? (Cowboy)
A - I always eat jelly babies head first. I think it’s the only humane thing to do.



I'm bad at following blogs but I try my best to stay updated with the following people:

Emma - Wonderful RL friend for many years, writes in Swedish about this and that in her everyday life.

Astrid - Writer and my brightest ray of sunshine.

Cowboy - Poetic ponderings, smiles and always an enjoyable read.

Cat a.k.a Catswire - My favorite jewelry designer with a wonderful sense of humor.

BubbleBoo - The lovely and strong. Don't forget to check out her wonderful writing at the Writer's Bubble too.

Lifecruiser - Warning: You may feel like traveling after reading!

Linda - Dive in and enjoy her diving adventures and other ramblings.

Northernlight - I just started following her and I think you should too.

David - The ministry of cats is full of goodies I have not been a follower for very long but I am looking forward to more.

Pam - Fantastic writer, I wish she wrote more but I know that sometimes life is keeping us too busy to type.

I apologize for the lack of in-depth descriptions of the blogs but they are all written by wonderful people and I highly recommend them. All above are written in English unless otherwise noted.

Thanks for making it to the end of the post. More fun will come soon.

Personal loss

The connection between what I create and how I feel is so closely knit that I can’t function properly without creating. Those of you who’ve known me for a little while know that I recently lost someone who was closely linked to my family. R was not a family member but so close in my heart that his departure was a significant loss and a terrible blow to my wellbeing.

I would describe myself as a positive person, I smile constantly and take great pleasure in the little things in life like climbing a tree, watching the sunrise, and getting lost while out walking. But sometimes a mood strikes me and the silly things can’t lift my spirits, no matter how hard I try.

I haven’t been on this earth a terrible amount of years and I would never want to compare what I have been through with anyone else but I think I can fairly say that it’s not been the easiest. The only people I call my family is my parents and my brothers and despite how dysfunctional we all are we can stand to be in each other’s company. The rest of my relatives are just connected to me genetics, not by love or closeness and I do not talk to them. I’ve found myself in relationships marred by mental and physical abuse and managed to get out of it with the majority of my soul intact. I’ve encountered drugs and violence in so many forms that looking back at it I feel like I should be at least twice as old to have had time for it all. It feels surreal to know that over ten people that have played a significant role in my life has died, only half of them by old age and/or sickness.

Death is an inevitable byproduct of life, it’s the only thing we can ever be certain of. I don’t mean to be morbid or depressing, I’m only trying to reassure myself that it’s natural and it’s one of the few things that we all have in common.
The loss of a person you love, is on the other hand one of the most unnerving and emotionally disturbing things one can go through. A sudden void, the lack of a voice and a presence. An event that you can never be fully ready for, even if the person is diagnosed with something mortal. There is no preparation.

Creativity is a complex thing. It’s fickle, fragile, forceful, fascinating, foolish and other fantastically suitable adjectives, not only those starting with an f. Creative is defined as being “marked by the ability or power to create” according to the Merrian-Webster dictionary.
My desire to be creative went away when R passed away. I still created things but I didn’t write any songs or stories, I didn’t sing and I didn’t draw. I kept away from the ways I usually pour out my feelings. Most of all I escaped into books, into the world of literature, where all things are imagined and if it gets too sad or scary I could just close the book and rest. I felt the need to press pause and get over the shock before I could process anything.

I’m ready to write now. I’m ready to sing. I’m back, with another hole in my Swiss cheese heart but I’m also stronger than ever.

Thank you for the support, it meant the world to me.