Sometimes I am so certain of reality, of possibility, that when something alternate suddenly manifests my mind becomes totally flummoxed. Good fiction contains that vital ingredient, a way of meandering along with a most predictable story line, however bizarre the happenstances and characters might be, and then suddenly presenting a situation that had totally escaped our wildest imaginings. This surprise, bewilderment is of course the exact reason we are all drawn to certain authors or genres, the fact that we can be successfully set back on our heels by a small previously unconsidered twist.
Such are the makings of unforgettable dreams, repetitious spinetingling nightmares, circumstances that simple in concept are completely out of left field. That while remaining hauntingly viable, momentarily moving us to a realm of extraordinary discomfort, far from everything we ever previously considered plausible.
Frankenstein’s creation, an animate severed hand, the risen mummy, Gothic panoply at their most alarming.