A lost story

(or Murphy messing with me for the umpteenth time)

The Dream King, a.k.a. The Sandman, a.k.a. Oneiros, a.k.a. Kai'ckul, a.k.a. Morpheus, a.k.a. Murphy, among other names - my favorite Neil Gaiman creation, among others. (Illustration by Yoshitaka Amano, in "Dream Hunters")

I remember I dreamed about a great idea for a story last night, or early this morning. It might even be a whole story, although at this point it has already been lost.

I remembered waking, getting up, and smiling while eyeing my little red notebook and a pen that were both sitting together on the desk beside my bed. I was feeling triumphant because I have caught the idea/story in that place where it is difficult to hunt and actually capture something- that realm between sleeping and waking.

Apparently, however, it had all been in my imagination because by now, it had already been four hours after I've actually woken up (I wrote this first on the little red notebook at 12 noon today) that I remembered having that moment, if it was a real moment, or that dream, if it were indeed a dream.

And also, the little red notebook? It wasn't anywhere near the desk at all. I found it in the very bottom of my bottomless sack-bag. And the pen? I found one from another room.

Damn. Murphy is messing with my head.

More on Murphy next time.