Quite regularly I have dreams that would make the most wonderful stories. In fact my current NaNo work was born from a dream. And I had a dream when I was a kid about a cat superhero called Thunderpuss, her back story would make or a great animated show or kid's book (although maybe I'd been watching too much Thundercats.)
Last night I dreamt about husbands swapping bodies, doting wives, demon dogs and baby snatching. All the people in the dream had great American names like Hank, Jimmy and Bobby (he was actual Bobby off of Supernatural.) There was a great twist at the end and I was surprised at the outcome. I woke up thinking, 'I should write this'.
If I'm not destined to be a writer then what? An emotional wreck floating through an office job pretending to enjoy talking to people?
In other news
The post 'Bad Wilde' was simply paranoia. I had nothing to worry about. Friend does not hate me, Facebook thing means nothing and I feel much better now.