Anxiety causes dreams, which causes story ideas

I am one of those people that rarely remembers my dreams.

But I had one last night that was very much an Alice-through-the-Looking-Glass type of dream.  I think it was triggered by the nervousness I’ve been having for the last five days concerning a very big job interview that I will be attending in about half an hour.

In the dream, there was a very abstract, almost Dali-esque desert.  There was an odd hippie-type shop owned by a sweet old lady named Mrs. Glass.  And there were doors.  Tons of them.  Children giggled behind some while unnamable things screamed behind others.  There was a podium where people were signing up to open these doors.  Also, the nearest city has recently been devestated due to the opening of one of these doors.

Very odd.  But it stuck with me and I hammered out a very rough outline for what I labeled my Door Story (and may very well end up being my first ever attempt at YA fiction) this morning.  I am making myself wait on the writing part of it until after NaNo, though.  Because even though it is now apparent that I will not be making it across the NaNo finish line, I am determined to remain vigilent until the end.

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