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I had a dream about writing last night.
More specifically, I had a dream about a scene - a woman, slightly matronly, was going through the upper shelves on a tall desk. (I guess...like the kind that has a writing surface that folds out and often a cabinet to close up everything?) It was the desk of one of the students. A whiff of boarding school, specialty school, this one being an orphan? It was something about taking down the sketches the girl had made. But there was this undercurrent - like this was supposed to be something to write about, somehow.
More specifically, I had a dream about a scene - a woman, slightly matronly, was going through the upper shelves on a tall desk. (I guess...like the kind that has a writing surface that folds out and often a cabinet to close up everything?) It was the desk of one of the students. A whiff of boarding school, specialty school, this one being an orphan? It was something about taking down the sketches the girl had made. But there was this undercurrent - like this was supposed to be something to write about, somehow.