Dreaming in Words

When did I start dreaming as a writer? I woke up this morning, as I do many mornings now, with a word in mind, a beginning of a sentence. The word was “Possibly.” Or, as I was drowsily awakening, maybe “Certainly.” I don’t know where that was going, but I was interested, speculating. I’ve always heard that when you study a language, a turning point is when you would dream in that language. I’d love to think that I’ve turned a new corner in being a writer.

Before I started composing sentences when I was asleep, dreaming, I began in daydreams. The first time that I can remember doing this was a few years ago walking on the trail with my husband and noticing a beautiful duck on the creek alongside. I had this reaction in in a complete sentence—"She’d forgotten that color until the mallard lifted its head, and she was struck by the sheer extravagance of it.” I don’t keep a notebook with me, but I wrote it down when I got home, I liked it that much. I liked the way it sounded in my mouth. It now resides in a file on my computer labeled “Pieces of Writing.” Fragments, sentences, paragraphs that I may someday do something with, but for now, they are simply language that I may want to savor again.

Do you dream as a writer, day or night? How do you capture idle thoughts that you know you don’t want to forget? I’m curious as to what systems we all use, as I’m certain I have thoughts and pieces of writing in other places—that I’m not as organized as I’d like to be. I periodically run across a paragraph or partial essay that I started that didn’t get filed correctly or simply got passed over and then rediscovered as I looked for something else.  Then I can love finding it again.