I Wonder If This Ever Happens to Stephen King.

  Overnight, I was sleeping and had a vivid dream.  The dream was a story I was writing.

  Nearing the end of the story, and prior to morning light, I woke.  I reached for the notebook and pencil kept on the bedside table to take down notes.

  Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

  Best I can recall,  it was 1944 Germany, there was a submarine, and a typewriter being used with two sheets of carbon.  Beyond that, I've got nothing. 

  I wonder if this ever happens to Stephen King.