The past few nights, I've had three dreams where I find myself on Cylon Occupied Caprica after the fall. I'm strangely attached to this abandoned world where life in the twelve colonies came to a sudden end. A world left somewhat intact, but completely unlivable.
The dreams have played out somewhat like video games where I wander, vaguely aware of danger everywhere but encountering very little first hand. And though the dreams have been nightmares, I feel oddly at home on Caprica. Naturally this means I've been watching too much Battlestar Galatica again. But I blame the BBC for that.
I think one of the strongest compliments a writer can get is when a reader admits they had a dream about his or her story. The world you created suddenly feels more real because you know that now it exists in more than one person's imagination. It is no longer just some place you made up--it's a real place where others can go.
I could live in a place like Caprica, but I could never live in a world without fiction.