A Short But Revealing One

I feel really good about my book. I know it's going to sell well.

Or at least, that's what I thought I felt.

Turns out my subconscious is not nearly as confident as it would have me believe. For last night, it revealed itself to me in a dream. And it was not good.

I was away at a writers' festival with my agent Pippa, and my publisher, the Handsome Mark. I was speaking at the festival with another writer, a first-time author like me.

I was excited and positive about the turnout, until Pippa approached me, her face black with fury (metaphorically speaking. Even my dreams have some logic).

"You know you've blown it," she told me angrily.

"What do you mean?" I asked. I'd blown it? What exactly had I blown?

"You didn't get that story to me on time so now your book is ruined," she said. "It will never sell. It's all over."

I felt utterly crushed, and was overcome by a wave of panic. My hopes and dreams lay dying before me (again, metaphorically speaking. In the dream we were still at the writers' festival and everyone else was having a picnic).

I looked from Pippa to Mark. "But... but... what story are you talking about?"

"The one about you throwing the table through the window," Pippa said. "You promised it to me. You haven't delivered .So no-one will ever buy your book."

I looked pleadingly at Mark. He nodded, his face hard and cold.

"It's true," he said. "I can't help you. It's all finished. You should have written that story."

I started to cry, great racking sobs that actually woke me up from my dream. I shifted over in the bed, prodded my husband and asked him for a cuddle.

"I had a terrible nightmare!" I told him. "I dreamed that Pippa and Mark told me the book was finished because I forgot to write a story about throwing a table through a window!"

My husband pulled away and looked at me. "You forgot to write the story about the table?" he joked. "How could you forget to write the story about the table! Oh that's very bad....."

And he wonders why I have issues.....