For as long as this story has been in my life, my husband has been making fun of me for it. (If you haven't read the story, please do!) Of course, he wasn't my husband at the time, but when you begin dating someone as a teenager, there's a certain amount of seemingly never ending teasing that goes on. It's all good, and it's one of the reasons I love him so much, but I tell you, he has no respect for the story.
He will often yell out, "The woman! She has BUTTER!" Sometimes he'll grab a stick and wave it in my face making ghost noises. There have been times when he'll shout, "Watch out!" because the butter is out on the counter. And a few times he has offered to console me in case the butter is frightening me.
I often squawk back that it is not about the butter. I tend to use my best teenage girl squealy voice to do this. If I was 25 years younger, you may accuse me of flirting.
"Yes, I know. The woman. She walked through you. It was scary. I know," he says.
Then I call him names and life goes on.
The idea of writing about the woman with butter has been swimming in my head for quite some time and I couldn't figure out how to do it. Starting out a blog post with "I had this dream once" is worse than starting a conversation like that. A blog post you can click off of. If I'm telling you a dream in person, you have to pretend to be interested so I can finish telling you.
I've always been afraid of writing fiction. I can write from my heart or I can tell you a story in my own way that hopefully makes it interesting to you. But making up a story is damn near impossible for me. Or at least it is when I'm awake.
In the comments of the post, several people said I could make the woman with the butter into something more. I'm very easily influenced, so now I'm thinking of writing more story for this. I am not really sure what the story will be. Will I write about the back story? The 15 year time lapse? What happened after the return of the woman?
Considering I didn't ask anyone if they thought I should expand it, I'm taking the suggestions as sincere and not merely friends blowing smoke up my ass.
And I kind of think it's funny that now I can torture my husband of more tales of the woman with butter. That's as good a reason as any to expand a dream into something larger, isn't it?