My mother called me last night. She finished reading Linked and wanted to chat. Highly unusual. We generally don’t talk about my writing since it tends to horrify her. Yes, I am once again the black sheep in my family.
She said except for all the sex she liked the story. Um, it’s erotic horror. By its very nature there will be sex in it. What she really wanted to know is when I started having nightmares. I’d mentioned that all the ones in the book were variations of ones I’d actually had.
As I sat there, shaking my head and laughing, I was reminded of just how odd our relationship is. You see, my earliest memory is of a nightmare. Or the aftermath of one. I remember waking up terrified, standing in my crib screaming and crying. And no one coming to my rescue. The nightmare itself is one I’ve had many, many times since then. Yes, it’s included in Linked. The one about the tree.
I’ve had a constant string of nightmares my entire life. Too many to count in the time I lived with my parents. And my mother never knew. Which means she also doesn’t know about my prowling at night when I was too afraid to sleep. Heh. Explains a lot, doesn’t it?
Happy weekend! Take your camera and go exploring.