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My earliest memories are of vivid dreams, and as far as I can recall, I've had them regularly throughout my life. Obviously, some are more memorable than others, and the ones I remember clearest of all are those in which I am an acting protagonist in an unwinding plot. Whilst I like to think of them as being pretty lucid and coherent, in reality they're probably more akin to sub par Uwe Boll-style movies than Hollywood blockbusters, but every now and again I dream about a small and simple little thing that I like enough to want to write down.
Now, it goes without saying that that the dullest conversations of all are the ones that begin, "let me tell you about this dream I once had", so please be assured that I won't be doing that. It'd only end with you yawning whilst I explained the three requirements needed to kill a demon (you must destroy their physical form, their spirit form and their source of power) or something equally tedious. So yes, not the type of person you'd want to be stuck in a lift with (although certainly more towards the 'benign' side of THAT particular scale).
I've built this up far too much now, but what's a blog for other than an outlet for the purest and most narcissistic forms of self indulgence?
So anyway. In my dream there were these apples that turned into books. Cool, huh?