The secretary at work recently told me that she thinks my interesting dreams are a result of me stifling my creative side by not writing novels as I ought. So, which of my recent dreams do you think would make the best basis for a story?
1. The one where I smuggled methamphetamine across the country in my hollow pinkie toe. (I carried prescription meds in the neighboring toe.)
2. The one where I could instantly go places by pointing at a location on an online map, but sometimes I accidentally went back in time as well. And then I met my grandfather 50 years ago, and he told me what a pain his fourth-oldest son was. I told him I thought his son would turn out just fine.
3. The one where I was trying to escape from a futuristic slave mining camp with the help of a talking Ken Jennings doll that an old insurgent gave to me before the bad guys shot him.
4. The one where I accidentally started a war.
