Coincidence or not, from the day that Nathaniel came into our lives, I stopped dreaming altogether. At the same time, I found my ability to sit down and write anything useful pretty much began to fall apart. Go ahead and look at my blog before and after June 1, you'll notice a remarkable difference. I still managed to get some blog entries out, but nowhere near the amount that I used to. I can only assume that the two issues are connected. My ability to dream, hence my ability to process all of the events happening in my life, was dormant. With that my ability to write it all down went to.
After the events of the last couple weeks had come to a close...posters, videos and graphic wizardry, along with a few loud arguments with my spouse about the amount of work on my plate, something changed. I dreamed. And not just a fluffy, useless dream, but a mega-concept event that would make for awesome literature. Then I didn't write it down and the idea was forgotten...but that's besides the point. The point was that my brain had decided that enough was enough, and was moving shit out. Guess that, like Melanie, my brain got fed up with the constant clutter.
So...what does this all mean? It means that I need to use some time this glorious long weekend and re-organize my office back into a centre of inspiration. Get all my writing tools back out, including my cute little Writers Block. Then hang some pics up, go for a walk with my camera in tow, and get some stuff out.
It's October. Autumn. The biggest season for change, beauty and death. My muse waits over the next hill. I walk towards it.