A thought begins to form and with it that intoxicating rush of what it may become. Now the idea takes shape and I’m itching to get my hands on a pen and paper to jot down the rudimentary plot.
Fabulous words and phrases are slipping through the grey matter and I feel the panic rise. I’m in transit…still in my car. Even upon entering the office, I can’t just commit to writing everything down but I can punch out a few key words.
My head is still a foggy, not quite awake. I didn’t sleep well last evening. The world outside my walls kept invading my nirvana.
At 3:50 AM crows were plaintively screaming an injustice outside my window. Sleepily, with eyes still closed, I tried to reason with them.
“You’ll find a more responsive and sympathetic audience if you just let us sleep!” I whispered to the cacophony. They failed to listen.
I had hoped to double up today. Workout in the morning and run after work. Sirens and crows played a major hand in convincing me to listen to the bed this morning and steal another hour of what had been sadly lacking during the night.
Strange things play out in my head on the cusp between these two realms. Dreams invite the outside world in to dance with the images already engaged.
A drama is unfolding, though I seem to just be observing at this point. A crow glides in beside me. With an air of petulance he shakes his glistening black head.
“You just don’t understand, you’ll never understand.” Then he makes to fly away.
“Stop this! I hate that when you do this. Always you make your accusations then just fly away.”
I reach out and take hold of one of his legs.
“This is not the time.” he warns ominously.
“And when will be the time?” I insist.
“When the playoffs are over.” he hisses at me then flies away.
I woke then with a question mark etched on my face and in my mind.
Finally, I just gave up trying to go back to sleep. I slipped from bed and prepared for the day. I’ll run tonight after work.
My training needs to build gradually so I will keep at it.
As I was driving in to work I pondered dreams. I thought about technology. Wondered if they would ever develop a dream recorder. Wondered if I would ever want to use it. I don’t know that I would want to share such an intimate side of myself with the rest of this world.
Oh, I can talk about them. Tell you bits and pieces or lay out the complete story. That is my choice though. Still, you’ll never see exactly what I have.
Would there be benefits be of being able to record the images in your head? For those who claim to ‘never dream’ would it shock or surprise them at what actually does go on in their grey matter?
It was recently noted that taking ‘selfies’ on a continuous, almost obsessive basis is now considered a mental illness. Narcissism seems to be on the rise. The desire to appear perfect is a multi-billion dollar industry.
I go through various stages of beautiful. At the moment I resemble a fish called Wanda with a bit of Sebastian the crab tossed in for good measure.
How’s that for a visual? A reggae singing crab crossed with an angel fish. And you know, I think if I could just talk like a Jamacian, it wouldn’t matter what I looked like because I would sound so cool!
I seldom take my picture. There are far more interesting things to look at than me. Everyone knows what I look like. I update it from time to time. For example, when my hair fell out during chemo and I had it shaved by my daughter.
What was funny about that was the concern my head would be mishapen. I am sure I would have known this with the hair still on my head. But again, there is that desire to look normal, to be attractive.
Like many of you, I want to feel beautiful. And I guess that’s the key. Feeling it is much different than just the visual.
For those who take selfies of themselves gyrating in front of a mirror with next to nothing on, who display their cleavage or who take pics of their penis’ I wonder at the reasoning for this.
It has gotten boring fast. It has become vulgar. There really isn’t anything mysteriously senuous about anything that the multitude of people doing this can offer. Perhaps they think that they look better than anyone else. I don’t know. And if so, what does the idea of this notion do for you?
Let me ask you this.
Does the idea of a woman of 56 that looks half crab and half angel fish dancing with mop excite you?
Hmm! I could be on to a whole new avenue of erotica here, folks.
My point being is that none of us has something that has never been seen before. They are assembled slightly different on all of us which is rather cool in a way. We all have assembled bits that are uniquely ours and we should celebrate this.
I shall go now and muscle through this day with the neurons that are fully functioning.
Peace out and enjoy.