Notes from the Nocturnal Realm:

You know how I’m trying to be a writer and all that hoo-haw? Well writers are supposed to keep a notebook by their bedside so if they get any genius ideas in the middle of the night or in a dream they’re suppose to jot it down, and that note might be the spark for a story . . . bla la bla.

So I woke up just now, and all I could remember was the last sentence of the dream, and it was so strange I had to jot it down. Here’s my little gem of wisdom from the nether-regions of my subconscious. Someone in the dream was talking to me, and this is what they said:

“And when you get tired of getting advice from a monkey at a funeral for $12.99 a pop, call me.”

What? What? Who’s funeral? What advice? Where’d the monkey come from? Who was telling me this at the end of the dream?

So there you go patient reader, a little sludge from my gray matter.

Have a nice day. I’m going to try.