Writer's Block

Actually, that title is misleading - I have no write (sorry, couldn't resist) to call myself a writer with nothing to show for it. Blame... Eskom, maybe? (Autocorrect thinks that should be Eskimo - very non-PC, this Mac) Although that doesn't work either, since I didn't even get round to putting pen to paper (sorry, Kim.)

Creativity by Bill Watterson 

I have been thinking about writing and decided that the inside of my head is far too visual a place, and where a picture paints a thousand words, according to Bread, I am finding my words inadequate to paint the picture that forms in my mind. This is my excuse, and I'm only excusing myself to my inner Jiminy. Were it not for this complete lack, my dreams would have been made into epic movies by now. 

There was a group of players searching for a stage on which to perform their play. I think there may have been five of them, two boys and three girls. Somewhere, they came across a dilapidated old house, reminiscent of the Boo Radley house, set in a large garden behind (naturally) a peeling iron palisade with a padlocked wrought-iron gate and tatty overgrown hedge. The gate was, however, easily scaled by these intrepid adventurers. Large, unkempt old bare trees surrounded the house which was most unpromising from the outside, almost hidden under drifts of dead leaves, with peeling paint and badly weathered clapboard siding, but once they managed to get the door open (with a very satisfactory creak)and venture inside the vast space, while dusty, dingy and cobwebby, looked promising. They found their way onto the roof, where there was another weathered structure, which on closer examination proved an exact scaled-down replica of the space below, still large enough to serve as a smaller theatre. This completely disintegrated, falling apart in flakes and chunks when they tried to enter it and stand on the stage, having been made of painted chipboard and plywood, so they pulled it apart and threw the debris down among the autumn leaves from the bare trees surrounding the building. This exposed several skylights in the roof of the space below, which they set to work cleaning with some energy. When they re-entered the building, it was as if several floodlights had been kindled, illuminating the wonderful space thus revealed... 
and then I woke up.

something like this...