Musing in Action

My muse is missing.

For several days now I have been museless. Somewhere, somehow I misplaced her. Where I have no idea.

I visited several local lost and found in search of her.

I found seven pairs of reading glasses, along with three bras in a fast food franchise bag. There was a lightening bolt earring, a torn and battered copy of The Da Vinci Code and a pack of dissolving breath strips. Someone else misplaced a calculator, several people are walking around without their cell phones and one religious person is missing their rosary.

All of these ownerless items and no muse to be found, where else could I search?

I drove to several of my favorite writing locations. Several hours spent walking around the local lake, sitting on a swing in Heritage Park and meditating beside a singing brook. To my despair my muse was still missing in action.

Failure greets me at every turn. A muse is rare and beautiful creature one not easily replaced. What was I to do?

Dreams. Maybe that is the ticket, search the landscapes of my dreams and maybe I will find my muse frolicking in the cotton candy clouds.

So with what little sleep I managed to find I dived into the sea of my dreams. I spoke to aliens from the planet Multar, famous for their frozen quanta dip. I climbed Mt. Arlot with seven legged wigin discussing quantum physics and the undead. Eventually I found myself bathing in a chocolate stream with a flock of river wrens soaring in the clouds.

Nope, checked every dreamscape I could create and my muse was not to be found. Apparently I was going to have to move forward without her inspiration, attempting to write in a desert free of original ideas.

Of course once I gave up looking for her I found her almost instantaneously. I had inadvertently zipped her up inside of my backpack when returning my journal.

Boy was she mad.