I've been applying some dream elements to my story ideas lately. When I give myself some time in the morning to lounge in bed, dipping in and out of consciousness, I have the most vivid dreams and remember them well enough to jot a few notes down, if I feel they make any sense.
I remember reading a quote by Neil Gaiman on turning dreams into stories. His take is that dreams make very poor stories, because they only make sense to the dreamer. It's obviously very difficult to describe a dream to someone because the most absurd things happen in very mystical ways. You know how it goes: "So, I was in a car with my friend, and we fell off a bridge, and then we died, and then we were in a submarine house with no doors, trying to get out, and that's when Seth Green showed up..." Usually the reaction I get when I try to tell a dream is a raised eyebrow and a series of "alrighty thens." But, guys, some of them are wacky and action-packed and totally bestseller material! Like the one where I was caught on an urban battlefield, trying to escape the war between humans and robot-Nazis. I'm thinking of pitching that one to Steven Spielberg.
Seriously, though, I think dreams are great idea generators. Why not take dream elements and play with them to see how they could work in a story? Stephenie Meyer has said she got her inspiration for Twilight from a dream image of two lovers deep in conversation in a forest glade. (I know, this is the second time I bring Mrs. Meyer up in my posts. The truth is, I can rip on her as much as I want, but her books have, after all, made her a gazillionaire. She's clearly doing something right.)
You just have to be careful that the way you write the story makes sense. Unless you're the reincarnation of Lewis Carroll, avoid writing your story like a dream. It seems people don't like to suspend disbelief for novels as much as they do for movies. (Note: I like Steven James' comments on making your narrative world believable in this article.) We are used to the modern writing of commercial novels based on a certain formula, and anything outside the norm is considered "experimental." Sadly, I'm learning that if your goal is to be published, you've got to stick to what sells.
Related reading:
When I was a teenager, I was very interested in metaphysical art and the occult in writing. On a whim I picked up a copy of Aleister Crowley's Moonchild, written in 1917. As I found out later, the book is possibly his most well-known work and is a must-read for anyone studying all things "magick." And it is quite a mindfuck. Though I approached it with an open mind, the book really turned me off with its disjointed storyline and an anticlimactic ending. I remember wondering if it was based on a dream, or if Crowley was on drugs (most likely), or if I was missing some hidden meanings behind the metaphysical musings (most definitely). I have talked myself out of more than one nonsensical story idea, remembering Crowley's demented writing. I wonder if I would be able to see it more for what it was meant now, as an adult. I have the feeling I wouldn't have the patience to get through it these days.
Another unconventional novel I've read that centers on dreams is The Blue Flowers (Les fleurs bleues) by French novelist Raymond Queneau, written in 1965. Even though it was assigned reading for French class in high school, I loved reading this amusing, gentle tale. The Blue Flowers is the story of two protagonists, one from modern times and the other from the Middle Ages, and how they dream of one another. At least, it appears they do - we cannot be sure they aren't the same person, or that either is actually "real" at all. Queneau's inspiration for the story was the Chinese saying: "I dream that I am a butterfly and pray there is a butterfly dreaming of me." Lovely food for thought.
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