This morning, while walking my dogs, my thoughts turned to a conversation I had with a couple of friends recently. We'd had a fabulous dinner, a few glasses of wine, and we were all very relaxed. The discussion turned to quantum mechanics and all things metaphysical. And then I recalled a conversation with an old girlfriend many, many years ago in which she told me of an experience she'd once had. A more complete story started to gel in my mind.
I returned home, threw some Bob Dylan on the CD player (Slow Train Coming seemed appropriate for a Sunday morning), and sat outside with a cup of coffee. And my mind went to work.
A good dose of The Beatles found its way into the story mix, a few more weird ideas, and suddenly I find myself with a plot.
I know what I'm doing today.