Standing outside the store with someone next to me, we were perhaps in a line of some sort, we watched a woman inside. She walked to the front window display and placed a book atop a tall ladder. Each "step" of the ladder held a book. The book on the top was mine. My published book faced the street, faced me and all the people wandering past. I remember commenting to the person next to me about my book. There were a few other scenes in which I tried to get closer to the book but never made it. I awoke confused.
This dream came two or three days ago and letting it go has proved difficult. The published book appeared to be a crime fiction novel. My preferred genre is young adult or fantasy. Crime fiction?
In another part of the dream, a scene played out in my mind or rather the mind of myself in my dream. A man dragged a woman up a very steep slope. He dragged her by her foot. She, near death or dead, did not struggle. The mud beneath them left tracks of his steps wiped away by her body. There are other details but this scared me. Horror is not a genre I enjoy. At heart, I am the biggest chicken you'll ever meet. No thrasher movies, no Halloween hay rides, no ghost stories. However, this scene has me intrigued.
I lost my keys recently in a Khol's department store, and found them an hour later hiding under a purse I'd tried out, loved but didn't buy. I took it as a sign to buy the purse. I do not regret it. Maybe this dream was to push me into the right direction. Maybe this dream was to remind me of the many options I have as a writer. Maybe this is a sign. Could the biggest chicken this side of the Atlantic write horror?