I dreamed of getting pinned down by
hysterical gunfire in a jungle. When,
upon waking, I tried to picture the viewpoint of those doing the shooting, Karol
and his friends immediately popped into my head and wouldn’t let go. I wove the two viewpoints together, rebels
I dreamed of chamois playing a role
later on, so I had to write about it here.
I don’t remember whether I dreamed or
made up the story about the monkeys. I
think I made it up.
How Damien survived the slaughter of
his village came as a surprise to me, dawning on me in the final rewrite, but I
did dream of the conflict between the mother and daughter witches/politicians–from
both viewpoints. I dreamed of the
daughter ultimately triumphing over the corrupt mother, knowing that she would
not live to see her victory, and that her mother would never know of her own
defeat. For in the end I finally became
wholly the younger woman, and in that identity I died, besieged in a basement,
assailed by forces of sheer evil draining the life out of me. And yet I died with hope in my heart. And woke up here.