I should be writing down anything and everything that I ever mentally formulate, because I can barely remember what I ate for dinner last night (default: cereal).  That said, there were periods in my life in which I followed this mantra explicitly - most prominently after some mind altering dream sequence - but that, much like my exercise routine, has been routed to the "what i ate for dinner last night" portion of my brain.

Here is an excerpt from a dream that was feverishly written by the light of my alarm clock - I just unearthed it from the depths of my computer whilst deleting some unwanted clutter.  Bear with me, I got excited.

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“You’re trying to do the lotus…but it’s just not making me feel welcome anymore”.
Sheepishly she threw her chin to the side, tilted downward, and turned into her right shoulder. Her sweater (which I have previously mentioned to be a fantastic display of colors from exotic origin) twisted into a disfigured cockatoo.
     "Dinner has a funny way of looking nylon tonight," she seeded with utter disinterest and proceeded to re-cross her legs again.  My hands caressed the underbelly of the cedar table noting several pesky  blemishes - pretending to listen, but secretly cursing the faulty craftsmanship.   She took notice of my reaction; leaned in; posed correctly, and begged longingly for money. The sweater flew off with a natural confidence.

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I know that's a parrot, but imagine it a disorganized sweater, to help aid literary visualization.