The Story Behind the Story

     My short story Update: Morph, had a beginning in a dream.  Yup, a real I'm-asleep-dreaming dream.  I often remember my dreams, but rarely are they coherent or particularly interesting.  Well, this dream sure was interesting, at least to me, and it made coherent sense.

    I recall waking up several years ago thinking,  "Wow, I've got to write that one down."  I admit, the story, as I eventually wrote it, has a lot more detail than a 10-15 minute dream.  Also, the actual dream ended with the arrival of the police officer.

    Many elements of the dream are very much a part of my own life.  The horses, the dressage, even the cat/s are bits that anyone who knows me will recognize.  My son had transformer toys.  Some people will even recognize the car.  I'll write more about that a little farther along.

    The end segment of the actual dream annoyed me, because I definitely was enjoying this particular dream.  It struck me as something my imagination had grabbed, and put into my subconscious so I wouldn't forget it.  I had not wanted it to end.  Dreaming it was like reading an excellent tale, or watching a film, and enjoying it immensely.  The end was a disappointment because, well, I didn't want it to end, and I sure didn't like it finishing with the car being forced to its original form.  I seldom wake up angry, but that cop had me more than irked.  He didn't get it!  My horse was a car!  My car was a horse!

    So, I wrote the story, and gave it an end, one that pleased me.  I did submit a version of my work to my college extension writing class, and a number of students said the ending frightened them.  Interesting.  Just proves writers don't always know how their stories will strike other folks, because I had intended nothing scary.  In fact, I found my story rather comforting.     

    Now this particular work was on my computer for a number of years, and it went through many, many tweaks.  In fact, the version that appears here, in my blog, is different from the document I used to type it into the blog formatting, and even more different from the story I presented to my writing class.

    Perhaps the biggest change, though, is the model of the car, from Tesla to Galloway.  As I got ready to publish it here, I found myself surrounded by different times.  The culture of the United States has changed.  When we bought our Tesla in 2019, we were environmentally conscious.  My husband and I were showing we cared about the environment, and we were taking our stance against the gas companies.  Our family was among the first half dozen in the town to have an EV with self-driving capabilities.  We were also purchasing a car that was noted for its safety, especially in regard to senior drivers like us.  The AARP had highly recommended it.  (I wonder if they still do.)  Anyway, I've been in the car when it has been threatened.  Some careless driver was coming out of a side street, barreling along with no regard to other traffic.  We were nearly t-boned.  The Tesla flashed red on the dashboard, blared an alarm, and if my husband hadn't immediately jammed the brakes to prevent the thoughtless driver from ramming my passenger door; the car was ready to stop itself.  To quote the young man who went with us on our demo drive, "Teslas don't like to get hit."  I realize accidents happen, no systems are perfect.  But in our case, the car was out to protect us.  I like that.

    Tesla Motors keeps updating their cars to that our 2019 model has the same bells, whistles and features as the 2025 models.  Other EVs, as far as I know, do not offer this feature.  What you buy is what you get, even with an electric Corvette (I asked), but not with a Tesla connected to Wi-Fi.

    No, we are not selling our Tesla.  It continues to keep us safe, and it doesn't use gas.  If we sold it, someone else would be driving it, anyway.  I'm fond of Amenadiel, and he is not responsible for a CEO who has gone off the tracks of sanity.  (Yes, we named our care Amenadiel.)  To protect it from vandalism, we felt the necessity to purchase a couple of decals.  We didn't want to be too antagonistic, but we did want to get our point across.  We chose the message "Vintage Tesla.  Pre-Madness Edition."  So far, so good.  Amenadiel remains unmolested.

    Anyway, I decided I didn't want Update: Morph to get tangled in politics, or magnetized decals, so I chose to change the name of the motor company.  I've always enjoyed research.  My criteria was high.  I wanted my car to be for women, designed by a woman, and I wanted it to be based  on reality.  I didn't have to look far, nor was the search hard.

    Almost immediately, thanks to Google, I found a woman automotive engineer, Dorothee Pullinger, who was instrumental in creating a car for women after the First World War.  Further, the workforce at Galloway Motors was largely women, at Dorothee's urging.  The Galloway was produced from 1920 until 1928.  The company was located in Scotland, and that appealed to my own Scottish heritage.  I like all the information except the fact that the Galloway is no more.  However, in my world of the future, Galloway Motors still exists, and has evolved into an automotive giant.

    So Isaac, a fictional cousin to Amenadiel, came into existence as a Galloway.

    Isaac is a car - who purrs, and can do dressage.

    I have dreams for Amenadiel.