The Balloon of Utmost Importance

I have epic dreams. When I say epic, I mean EPIC. I once had a dream with opening credits. I know from my dreams that the soundtrack to the end of the world is Pink Floyd. (What else would it be?) When I was imprisoned in a futuristic P.O.W. camp with Morgan Freeman, our prototype for a personal levitation device helped us to escape. (Thank you Shawshank Redemption and whatever weird crap I had for dinner THAT night!)

As you can probably imagine, my dreams can be a great source of inspiration for my writing endeavors. The only problem with this is that unless I get up and immediately write down every detail I can remember, the dream fades and by the time I'm out of the shower and mostly awake for the day I have forgotten all but one little snippet, usually meaningless when taken out of context, and often somewhat confusing.

For instance, last night a balloon played a key part in my dream. It was inflated, attached to a string, like any other balloon one might see at a birthday party. But there was something special about that specific balloon that I unfortunately lost sight of shortly after my alarm jolted me from my pleasant dream state.

My day job is repetitive and my mind has a tendency to wander while my fingers are tapping away, tending to the tedious task of matching purchase orders to invoices so the bills can be promptly paid. (Okay, alliteration overload.) Naturally the Balloon of Utmost Importance intermittently floated through my thought waves and I began playing dream detective.

What was so important about that balloon? Was there something inside of it? A map to a treasure chest, perhaps? I could deal with being wealthy. No, that's too simple and self-serving.

What color was it? Maybe that's the key. It was light, possibly pink or orange. Warm and inviting. Maybe the balloon was filled with a magical substance that would bring us world peace when released. No, that's too grand of a scale, and I'm not competing for Miss America.

Instructions for salsa dancing? The formula for reanimation? A time machine? What was so special about that damn balloon?

Realistically I probably just wanted to inhale the helium and sing Metallica in a chipmunk voice to make everyone laugh. But the not knowing is going to make me crazy.