I dreamed I sent a book to one of my beta readers (hi, Toni) and she wrote back to say she never wanted to read another book of mine again unless I cleaned up my act. She sent me a ticket to the beach so I could go face nature and understand the true depth that I was supposed to put in my books.
Hey, it was a free trip to the beach--but I spent the whole time trying to screw some hardware back into a boardwalk that was falling apart. I shouldn't have fiddled with that bolt after all.
I woke up convinced that
1. the devil is in the details
2. I couldn't write about huge universal topics to save my life.
3. We really need to get to the ocean soon.
4. I should write a book that my several beta readers might like but I probably won't be able to.