My dreams heavily reflect whatever movie or television series or novel has last gripped my attention before heading to bed. When I do realise I am dreaming, I tend to realise that it’s my brain sorting through the stuff I have recently not only just seen, but also imagined and it replaying, examining the imaginative potential. It bumps me into a new level of realising what the meat computer is doing, and I tend to relax, just let it do its thing. It may seem terribly, terribly mundane but I find it fascinating, a miracle in and of itself how my brain works, how I am trying to understand myself from the inside.
All very bad for mining for story ideas, but I no longer have the ambition to be a novelist.
