It's no secret that writers find inspiration in the wee hours of the morning. Often the inspiration for a story comes from a dream. Robert Louis Stevenson wrote The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde after having a dream. He wrote furiously for three days, then had his wife read it. She was so horrified that the author immediately threw his manuscript into the fire. He then spent weeks trying to rewrite the story.
It's also common for writers to quickly forget a "brilliant" idea for a story as fast as a fire burning a
Last night I had a similar situation when I awoke around 4 am and, not being able to fall asleep right away, I read a short detective story before trying to return to the land of Nod.
Before I tell the story let me explain that when I was young there was a television show about a rather portly detective who drove a Lincoln Town car; the huge, heavy, square shaped gas guzzler with the ultra smooth ride. It was a bit curious that the criminal would always try to get away on foot in a wide open area, with plenty of room to be rundown by a large, luxury automobile.
I remember telling my parents that I was going to grow up to be a fat, bald private eye who drives a Lincoln Town car. My prognostication was, at least, partially correct. I am portly. A perfect example of a real life Santa Claus. And due to my size, I prefer large luxury cars, with a soft ride.
As I lay in bed with my old tomcat, scratching him behind the ears, sleep finally came. I was driving a black Lincoln Town car and riding with me was a friend I haven't seen in several years. We had just drifted apart as friends sometimes do. But there he was in the passenger seat. We drove into an alley and I remember wondering if we could squeeze through, when the car turned sideways as though sliding on ice. We made it through the alley.
Suddenly, I'm sitting in my two man fishing boat on Backus lake, my friend is sitting in the drivers seat of the Lincoln Town car just ten feet away. My buddy was sitting in a car, on a lake, and all I could think of was catching a fish to prove to my him, there were big fish in this small lake.
I cast my line out and as I retrieved the bait, a large northern pike hit. I reel it in and start fumbling with my net to get the thrashing monster out of the water, but the net keeps folding up. My friend is still in the car on the lake, and he's laughing at my plight with the landing net. I get the net straightened out and retrieve the fish to show him.
Just then I woke up and I was thinking, "That would make a great story." There was just one thing I found to be strange. I have never owned a Lincoln Town car. I guess, sometimes, the dream just isn't believable.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
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