Many writers compare stories to dreams, and though this analogy is especially apt, it is nevertheless certainly worth revisiting. Like dreams, stories enable people to synthesize lived experiences, longings, and emotions, distilling the intensity of these through symbolic representation. Also, stories that are well told work the magic of dream by immersing readers in the fi ction so effectively that this imagined space, its objects, and inhabitants feel convincing and true to life. But unlike dreams, which happen in spontaneous ways, fi ctional narratives are deliberately fashioned. With inspiration from Alice Munro ' s short story "Post and Beam," wherein a historic house provides the central metaphor for a character who discovers her life has been erected upon a faulty foundation of compromise and sublimation of self, perhaps composing story is more like constructing a dwelling than experiencing a dream. In fact, creating a narrative shares much in common with building a home with many rooms, closets and cupboards to intrigue and astonish both inhabitants and guests.Stories, while inspired by dreams, are the products of an intentional process of many steps -from blueprinting to fi nal touch-up -and like houses, well-constructed stories invite readers to live and breathe within their walls, traveling from room to room, or scene to scene, as they inhabit and experience, along with the characters, their distinctive architecture. Similar to a designed structure, story imposes a certain vision and order on what is initially imagined. In so doing, fi ctional narratives suggest that particular patterns defi ne what we experience, know, and dream about, and that we can interpret these patterns meaningfully. Early storytelling, such as mythology, folktales or biblical stories, often functioned as proto-science to explain A Companion to Creative Writing, First Edition. Edited by Graeme Harper.