I vowed I would post two blogs a week and so far so good. I set a goal of using writing prompt cards from a friend, but today’s blog is going to be a little different. I have written a blog from the writing prompts, but creativity has another agenda and I am following the path. I had a dream and it has been with me for days now.
They say if something appears to you several times to pay attention. Like an idea about a book or business.
With in less than 24 hours, I’ve been presented with the notion of Paris.
First during a dream, I witnessed a woman touch a man’s face softly saying, Let it go Brock, it’s Paris.
Then at the gym, I heard a song about Paris and as I was searching for a picture to post about dreaming, the picture above shows up. Talk about a A-ha moment. Hello? My muse cries out as she knocks on my head.
A few days have passed, and the whispers of Let it go Brock, it’s Paris, lingers in my mind. I have questions, who is Brock? What is it about Paris that I should know or look into? Or is it about the dream?
As I walked to the coffee shop to meet up with my friend, Jacqui Nelson for our Sunday morning writing sessions, I thought about the statement, Let it go Brock, it’s Paris, and I thought maybe I should write the story just like I witnessed it in my dream, and I can still see certain images from the dream, when some mornings I can barely grasp on the last image I might have witnessed during the REM state. So, let’s go ahead and try to write a little more about Brock and this woman.
I might be dreaming. I’m waiting in a line, outside, it’s a snow-covered trail, there are many people in this line, waiting, shuffling along, I don’t see the end of the line or the beginning. I don’t even know why we are in line? It’s not cold out, the snow-covered trail is pretty, I still don’t know what I am here. The woman I witnessing this dream through is watching a man with soft grey eyes, dark brown hair with flex’s of grey, maybe salt and pepper, but not as much as grey as you’d imagine. He’s wearing a navy blue pea-coat that gives him that certain mysterious look. The man looks sad as his gaze lingers past her. The woman reaches her hand towards the mans face, she softly glides her finger tips along his chiseled jaw line and whispers
Let it go Brock, it’s Paris.
They begin to walk, the line has moved, the people in front of them are quite ahead of them. I can hear the woman say over and over, Let it go Brock, it’s Paris, it rings in the mans mind. They approach the line with more people waiting on the snow-covered trail, it begins to lightly snow. The man and woman see an older man looking for his wife who is behind the couple. Then older couple finds one another and embraces with passion, as if they hadn’t seen each other for years and it was only a moment ago.
Then my alarm goes off, but I can not forget the lingering whisper, let it go Brock, it’s Paris…
Who is Brock? Is Paris the city or is it another person? Is the woman his lover? Is this small statement like ‘we’ll always have Paris?’ did they met in Paris? What is it about this six word sentence that has the creative mind stirring? I wanted to write it down so I could continue with my editing of my NaNoWriMo project – my weekly goals have been 50% met, I’ve written two and posted two blogs which I feel really good about. However, I haven’t done any work on my work in progress. I’ve slipped back into the hotel life and my ego has sucked me back in with its old behavior’s of “thinking” it’s okay to sit around doing nothing after work. Sorry ego, you’re wrong. I must write, edit, work on my passion any time I get a chance. I’ve waited to long and have been quiet for far too long. It’s time to turn up the volume on this great voice that has been given to me.
I am grateful for this idea and I will let the imagination run wild, let’s see what we can come up.
Until next time, keep on typing. . . .