I keep notes from most of my dreams.
The other night I had a wild one. It was night, so the sky was dark, and it was windy and cloudy. There were no stars, and the moon was a sliver high in the sky. I couldn’t see the ground clearly – it was all shadows and rough edges. I fell a lot. Couldn’t get good traction, and close on the back of my head, and heels and hips were two attack-dogs. Rottweilers. And they had monstrous black wings.
If I didn’t write it down, those rotties would resurface. My subconscious would hold onto that memory and bubble it up in the middle of a sequence where I needed an image like that.