I dream frequently and often with great vividness. (One of my WIPs is inspired by a dream, although usually the dreams, though compelling, aren't coherent enough to leave me with anything but a few striking images.)
Recently I've had a few classic dreams that pertained specifically to writing. One was handing a manuscript to Ellora's Cave editor Heather Osborne (only she looked more like Shannon Doherty playing her Charmed
character, right down to the provocative clothes. This is apparently what my subconscious thinks an erotic-romance editor should look like, although I'd rather deal with funny, intelligent, down-to-earth Heather than Shannon D. any day.) She said, "Oh, I don't need to read that. I already know we'll accept it. I was just about to send you the email accepting your first novella and offering a multi-book deal."
I wish my dreams were prophetic!
Or maybe not. Last night's dream involved someone--I can't remember who and that's probably good, but I don't think it was Heather (or Shannon Doherty) --simply savaging MMR.
Then there are dreams that one really wishes would come true, for reasons that have nothing to do with shiny contracts. Recently I dreamed I was my late 50s, early 60s, and being somewhere with G., his lover, and some of their friends, all comfortably aged as well. The dream was very involved and complex, but at some point he pulled out a book and said, "Look what I found the other day-your first published story!" It turned out to be a very kinky tale set in the kitchen of a top-notch French restaurant-or maybe a grand house--of the 19th century. (Nothing like my actual first published story, which had nothing to do with sex.)
Without some context, this is just an odd dream, a writer's mind at work. Here's some context: G and I traveled through Europe together as college students and speculated a lot about the behind-the-scenes shenanigans that must have gone on in the historical sites we visited. It was in G's library that I first encountered erotica--specifically of the kinky and M/M variety--but I think my first encounter with flat-out erotica, as opposed to spicy scenes in mainstream novels or Penthouse-type fun but plotless smut. G was a huge supporter of my writing, from the time we were both blundering freshmen.
And G died more than a decade ago.