Sinner's sleep

Another nightmare has triggered a story. Too vivid to sleep for all eternity it must, rather, be born into life: the life of a story, no less.



Does that sound melodramatic?

Probably.

The storm blew the balcony door open in our room last night and spawned a nightmare. The balcony door doesn't close properly without a fifty gun salute slam. At certain times of the year, that is, when the wood swells. Most nights it's not fully closed but in the coldest weather it must be. Last night was freeeeezing, but the door hadn't been closed properly. When it flung wide open early this morning the cold was instantly arctic, almost as shocking as the time we were woken by a cat fight in my wardrobe.

The nightmare came after I finally went back to sleep for about half an hour before I had to get up. Not ideal conditions for peaceful sleep. On top of which, the balcony door is kind of my fault (long - longer - story), so the nightmare involved blame. That will be my story's theme: sinners who get no peace at night. I have my title.