Writing Challenge: Day 8

Preface: Yes, I know it is the 9th. But I usually write at night and thus am currently at my computer in the morning due to the fact I did not write yesterday. I had various end of the week commitments yesterday ending with a great night with a friend who is soon to leave the country and embark on a new life as an ex-pat.

But, alas, in the words of fellow writing challengers, this is not a failure. In fact, my friend and I spoke about this very challenge last night. As also stated by fellow writers: We do not 'fail' in not writing one day or another, because we are always writing - just in our heads. By her suggestion I have shifted my goals in this journey toward attempting to write ideas that I could potentially use as a novel. In an ideal situation, I could slowly begin to write this novel over the course of each day.  So after this development, here is my commitment to text of what I "wrote" in my head last night.

Day 8: (written on day 9) in reflection of Day 8: Novel beginnings

The morning sun is just coming over the horizon and into my window, casting a glowing sliver of warmth over my cheek. My consciousness is slowly returning as I feel one eye open and then the other. I just want to hug my pillow tighter, closer. I need the warmth and comfort, to feel like someone’s arms are around me on a morning like this. I can’t clearly recall the previous night and I’m realizing this morning haze is not lifting. Visions begin to resurface, but I can scarcely tell what is real and what is not.

The dream

Aggression, fear, surprise, forcefulness. I feel myself completely enveloped by a darkness. I see a face. Wait, two faces. They morph from one to the other. But there is something more there. One face looks very familiar. As his receding hair line and round, plump nose come into clarity, the lines and wrinkles on his face and that sneering smile shift into focus and I know it. The face comes into view as a demon coming for my soul. I can nearly smell the sweat and whisky emanating from his overly porous skin. I want to turn away but I cannot. He is holding me here. I am half pinned by his weight and half by my own anxiety.