Sweet dreams are made of… what the?

Many a time I’ve woken from a dream and thought that it would make a wonderful novel. Do I write the ideas down? Of course not. I go back to sleep, happy in the knowledge that there’s no way I could possibly forget such an epic story. Then I wake in the morning and it’s completely gone; not even a hint of a trace of a fragment for me to work with.

Then there are the other times when I have a dream so absurd that I want to forget it, and it is seared into my memory banks for me to relive in high definition over and over again.

Since my brain is stifling any attempt I have at writing a best selling novel, I’m going to take what its giving me and try to recreate the intensity of last night’s dream.

 Susan opened the drawer, pausing for a moment to shout at the kids to stop fighting, before deciding which pair of identical black knickers she would wear today. The ones on top were getting a bit worn, so she dug deeper with the intention of rotating the ones from the lower reaches. She gasped when she saw a flash of green amongst the black, excitement rising at the thought that there might be underwear in there of colour, perhaps even something a tad skimpier than the tummy controlling ones she wore nowadays.

The neatly stacked piles of knickers went flying as more colours and patterns were uncovered. A frisson of tingly heat moved upwards from her navel and her lips parted sensuously to let out a low, primal moan. The tired look of motherhood was vanquished as her eyes flicked back and forth over the unearthed treasure; her pulse taking on a new rhythm that made her want to throw the packages to the floor and dance amongst them with wild abandon.

Taking a ragged breath, her bosom quivering as she reined in her emotions, Susan pulled a package out and held it aloft to examine the gorgeous lime green and hot pink chevron pattern. She had no doubt that this was how an archaeologist felt when he first opened a chest full of ancient treasure, knowing that the objects he held were priceless.

She saw now that these weren’t knickers; they were something much better. Unwrapping a particularly bright purple and pink polka dot specimen, she gently placed it on her head and tucked a few stray hairs away. This would be the most stylish she’d ever looked in the shower, and she would enjoy every one of the microseconds she remained in the water’s embrace before the kids interrupted…


WTF Brain?

I think I’ll call this masterpiece monstrosity 50 Shades of Shower Caps.


P.S.  The shower cap didn’t ask the hair for permission before restraining it…


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