Dream to reality

[guado]

I am trying to create a bazaar sequence of dreams. A little bit of background is needed here I suppose. The main character has been infected with a curse. This curse over the period of a week or so will render the main character hopeless. The curse destorys all the main characters happy and content memories. The main character while sleeping can see in his dreams these memories being erased, and knows that it is a permanent removal. In the moring the man wakes up feeling as though he has lost or forgotten something.
The problem I am having is what kind of force is in his dream, and what sort of progression should I be using for the level of memory the man is losing. I am also having trouble discribing his dream theatre.

I was wondering if anyone could throw out some ideas.

Thank you guado

[Armondikov]

Sounds like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. In that, the sequence goes in revese chronological order. As some of the memories get erased, buildings crumble and cars crash, it just sort of happens as he goes chasing about trying to save the memory that he decides to actually keep.

I'm not aware of much writing that describes dreams in the kind of surreal way that they occur, but apart from Eternal Sunshine there's Waking Life, which is all about lucid dreams.

[backstept]

yeah I was going to suggest Eternal Sunshine
one of my all time favorites

and you mean bizarre instead of bazaar right?
bizarre = strange
bazaar = marketplace

[Armondikov]

I didn't think it was as good second time round though.

[guado]

First of all thank you for the feedback.

I agree with the Eternal Sunshine reference, and I have also seen Waking Life. I have this image in my mind of a much darker version of ESSM. I picture it happening like a battle and less like a struggle. Instead of running away with the memories, he will try to get them back. This combat will drain his physical strenght in the waking hours. I want to show a steady decline of his self esteem and will. After I am a little closer to being done with the opening chapter I will post it.

[Armondikov]

Seems interesting. Seeing someone lose it both in the real and dream world simultaneously is good to see. No doubt by the end of it you'd probably see the two worlds merge into an insane surreal mix.

If that's the case, I suggest very, very careful planning. There's a good program to help with planning stories (though mostly its used for students organsing their revision) I'll try and find the name of it since I was wanting to try it myself at some point.

EDIT (And I notice that the edit notice nearly matches the signature... Time Zones depending obviously): Learn More About Inspiration I think that's it, it seems a bit childish but the mapping thing is probably better than using a more common tool like Word.

[guado]

Thank you.

The story is set around 9 or 10 b.c.e. it is a fantasy, but the enemies are only there the conjure up this man's struggle.

[Honman1]

...

[Berticus]

Uhh, not quite sure as to what is exactly going. Dreams dissabpearing: yes, hopes and memories also going: got it. Now why? And more importantly, who?

What force is stealing this guy's hopes and dreams?

Establish that. Also, what other characters are present? What are the hopes and dreams?

Flesh this out, it has potential.

[guado]

This is just a rough openning. I want to start with a happy tone. I want to include a few days of traveling with the priests, before the introduce the enemies. The Whispers.

Dusk has started to take hold. The yellows in the trees have begun to twist with the orange and browns of the ground creating a lovely golden lining to the landscape. Sandoval has been traveling for a week with a group of missionaries. It is always better to have company on long treks he thinks.
He met up with the group outside of Van Doone at village where he was apprenticing under master Lorlynn. He had spent two years there developing his talent as a blacksmith, and now it was time to go back to his village. He was lucky to have been the one chosen from his village to learn these skills. It will insure a place of honor for him in his village. He will be well paid and have the pick of women to become his wife, but there was only one woman that he cared about, Laral. Oh, how the thought of her has helped him. Sandoval worked twice as hard to learn the trade. The hardening and blending of iron to make steel and the levels of heat required in shaping these metals into useful tools he attributed to her. All the techniques and flare he gained in her name, Laral. Now, he was on his way home to her, the love of his life, to start a family.
“So Sandoval, how long has it been since you have had word from your family?” Asked Demetri a young priest with more life and color in his cheeks than anyone Sandoval had ever seen.
“Two weeks ago I received word from my mother. She tells me that there is to be a celebration in my honor.” He pauses, trying to imagine his great uncle Douley, the huge man he is, lifting him into the air. A crowd of familiar faces smiling at him as if he was a hero. In fact, he would be a hero; his new skills would help the village tremendously. “I am not sure that I can take that kind of reception. All that I want to do when I get home is eat some of my mothers food, and fall asleep in the arms of my love Laral.” Sandoval says with a look in his eyes like he can see it already. “I think that my trek home is going to seem longer than the two years I spent under Master Lorlynn.” The priests smiled. They know what the expression on his face was. Love.
To the priest, Sandoval looked like a man of true contentment; the cheerful crimson in his high cheekbones, the sparkle in his auburn eyes, and how he always wears a slight smile. He has the look of someone in love. That look was the reason that they asked him to join them on their journey to the desert.
The group had stopped in Van Doone for rest and patronage. While in the village Demetri and another Priest had visited the armory. Sandoval was there the greet them. Through their conversation Sandoval learned that the travelers where Celts, and that they where traveling to the deserts across the Torin sea in search of their God. Sandoval told of his land and how it was close to the Torin Sea. Only his people didn’t call it the Torin Sea. They called it the Floating Sea because the old ones say that a fog so thick you could dip a cup into it for a drink used to rise out of the sea. Sandoval had traveled by himself to Van Doone and thought that company on his way home would be nice. So he asked the two priests if he might travel with them. They thought that Sandoval was a pleasant man, and knew he would be a splendid companion, they said yes.