summary
I keep having all these vivid scenes rising up in my head as I go about writing my story in the high fantasy genre, and I want to integrate them into my writing somehow, but I just... ugh. I can't do them all. I can't get them out of my head, they keep coming up, and this has been a million times worse recently because the more I write the more these images passively emerge out of my unconscious, ascending into my wholly unprepared psyche. I rather like feeling inspired, and I've considered petitioning my deity in prayer that this could happen to me more, but I know that if this happened any more it would preoccupy my mind to an unhealthy degree.
some of the scenes in question
A group of demons have imprisoned this woman. They bring her to hell's gallows, and are ready to inflict whatever punishment. An angel streaks across the sky like lightning and collides with the earth before the demons. "You have no power here," they say, "she's not innocent." The angel clenches his spear with white knuckles. "I don't care if she's innocent," he says, and in a flash they're all dead. (This one was a dream.)
A dead (or sleeping?) dryad laying tangled in a stream, erosion and age eating away at her ragged clothes, her body completely refusing to rot, the moss/plant-miscellany around her is unnaturally lush, flowering. Some children find her and weep, their tears are an act of worship.
Another angel (this one's a little morbid), chained to a massive cinder block in some abandoned cellar, starved, scourged with barbs, its wings busted and broken. Its captor feels no shame -- he is incapable of feeling anything other than pleasure, humor, and disgust.
A man and a woman sacrifice a cat to a demon in order to get nine lives. The demon appears as a shadow on the wall, wavering in the candle's light, and they hear his whisper caress their minds, "nine lives won't last you a few nights more."
An eroded statue of an angel, leaping upward, weightless, its arms and wings extended upward in jubilation. (Wow, that's three angel ones. This one is based on a similarstatue in my city.)
A nymph walking in a meadow, flowers opening as she passes, the grass grows taller where she has stepped.
A goddess emerging from a river, after sleeping for however long under the water. She wades out land, illuminated by moonlight, unclothed not immodestly but rather in a state of purity. (This one was also a dream.)