I dream. Sometimes those dreams seem to begin before I quite fall asleep and last a few moments after I begin to wake. I dream deeply. I dream with all I have. I live there. I rarely fly anymore. I rarely run away. I never fall. I seem to observe. To talk. To walk. To… do other stuff that we’re not going to discuss at this moment. And last night, I wrote.
Well, I tried to write. I wanted to write. The words seemed to be forming in great packs in my mind, lining up to trickle down my arms and flow from my fingers onto the keys of my laptop. I was ready. The words were ready. It was time. I was going to write something truly amazing.
What was I going to write? I don’t know. If I could remember that I’d be writing it down instead of this trite blog post.
But as my fingers were gently poised above the keys with both thumbs hovering over the space bar something caught my eye. Up at the top left corner of my laptop I spied an orange light and dream me stopped. She put her hands in her lap and said “When the light turns green I can start writing.”
I hate her.