Muse

"Clint, we need to talk."
"Okay..."
"Do you remember when we met?"
"Yeah. It was, um... It was at the Conant Public Library in Winchester. I was like 15 or 16."
"You were skimming through an old book."
"Not much else to do in New Hampshire. I was looking up obscure mythology."
"That's right. How old are you now?"
*sigh* "37."
"We've known each other for a while, haven't we? All the stories I've told you over the years, have you done anything with them?"
"I... Well, no. Don't give me that look. I'm not a writer. I'm a guy trying to write everything from your female perspective. Its a bit weird."
"Doesn't matter. I picked you."

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A little bit of background: I don't remember my dreams much, not since the brain tumor when I was 19 and the surgery to remove it (I'm 39 now). But, about 2 years ago I had the most intense, vivid dream of my life. It was so real! I'm sure that's normal for a lot of people. Not me. I was walking though an old mansion with Layla and the conversation above is basically what was said between us. There's more to it; she was telling me what she did and didn't like, giving pointers on what might work, and how to start organizing things.

Robert E. Howard once said that he felt like Conan was a real person relating adventures while Howard wrote down what was told to him. That's how I've always felt in writing about Layla. But this dream... wow! Very cool, but very weird, and it left me with a sense of urgency. I need to get this done.

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NOTE: This image will probably be updated here and there. My runtime is too limited at the moment.