This summer, we want to have fun. What’s more fun than indulging fantasy? Our answer here at the PRL is not many things are more fun – and as ubiquitous – as dreams. We dream when we sleep, and then slip into them during the waking hours. Falling into fantasy is experience away from the immediate physical experience of the body, and in this state, we can recall experience, and become immersed in the parts of the brain that were active during the recalled experience; during sleep, we subconsciously seek memories to form the dreams we sometimes remember.
Dreams tell us who we are, they are like fun mirrors, showing us our abstract possibilities. Do not shun dreams, not even the frightful ones. Disparaging the nightmares is like denying a part of yourself, and that will never do. We must never ignore our fears; future encounters with our fears would be too much to bear without occasional reminders of their existence.
We have dreams for you this summer. Come with us as we open our minds to spin tales of wonder, horror, whimsy and speculation of the boundless future.
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This week:
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Really, this douche again? The man with many names is back, and readers, he’s never been better. This time around, Leeland, nee Bradford, aka Bradley, Aldous, is unconscious and having a coma dream. But then he wakes up to write about it. Hunker down. This one’s in first person and you know he’s long winded.
The Black Dream Cycle: “Leeland missed all of this. He was in a coma for five days after he was pushed down the stairs at a bar. When he awoke, he learned of his fame and the money that was raised to cover his medical expenses. He was also delighted to learn that the people responsible for pushing him down the stairs were facing serious legal consequences and at least one had been expelled from school.”
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I have dreams of quitting my day job where I sit at a desk all day, talking on phones and sending emails; it’s maddening and it slowly kills you with inactivity. In my dreams, I work with my hands and I can make and fix things. I want to be an electrician, and I have dreams of taming the energy that feeds our technological age. These are my poems in celebration of electricity.
Electricity Sonnets: “The world is a rainbow, as are circuits/ Behind your walls that make the power veins/ Bringing your home to electrical life”
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You ever have your headphones on, music playing on a shuffle while you read or review your emails in bed, or while you scroll the news, and then doze off? Did the music affect the dreams you had? It probably did. This anthology is an ode to those dreams. First up, I fell asleep to a mellow groove.
Shuffle: “When it was done, you were so eager that you started a fire that very night. Your roommate, Chris, bought marshmallows and your other roommate, Garrett, brought beer, and the three of you sat out making jokes. The night was cool and the sky was clear, and you all sat in comfortable chairs.”
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Wesley Edward Livingston is going through some things, well, one major thing really. It’s pretty big folks, and not only is it causing turmoil in his home life, but it’s creeping into his dreams. Get ready for more from the Dream Journal.
Selections from Wes E.L.’s Dream Journal: “Valeria hates me. Or I assume she does. She used to like it when I wrote about her. She knows how much writing means to me, how much a part of myself writing is. But she won’t like this if she ever reads it. She won’t like this while she hates me.”
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The doctor is in, and there are patient beds available. The Rebel Max spins an interesting tale based on a dream I had earlier this year. I told him all about it and now, I get to enjoy the serialization of it done by our resident mystery writer. New issues will appear in every odd issue of Vol. 1, so get ready for mystery and suspense as we enter…
The House of Sorrows: “One building remains on the picturesque campus and though it is believed to be a monument to the noble work for which the hospital was originally created, it is much more than that.”
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V.I.V. is back! And they went on a creative retreat to the NC Coast. Their Chief kicked off their summit with a meal that makes me jealous that I’m not a staff writer for them. The dish at the center of this tale is very obscure, I’m so curious to find out what it is. But maybe don’t eat it, it’s known for causing strange dreams.
Welsh Rarebit: “We met on a Sunday at a house that we rented close to Wilmington, North Carolina. We planned a retreat to last for four days and five nights, over the course of which, we would discuss future plans for the publication This and Other Things. We decided to meet for dinner, which I arrived early to cook. By the time everyone arrived, there were six VIV staff writers, including myself.”
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It’s the PRL Serials Volume 1! Tomorrow may be full of doubt, but you, dear readers, can count on the PRL for the best serial fiction on the internet.
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PRL Serials 