I fell asleep last night, and like most nights did it in the same way, with words running amok through my head like a rollercoaster on the downward first plunge. Eighty miles an hour the thoughts took each twist and turn, moving words in sequences and plucking many out like fleas off of an infested dog. Nope, no good, pull that one and replace. Yes, that one works good there. I did this for a few moments, rehearsing the lines over and over again so that I would remember them, so that they would be given actual life on a piece of internet page for the world to see and judge. I fell asleep with words of beauty on my tongue, nodding in harmony to the rhythmic flow of creation.
I had many dreams last night. I know this as I woke with each passing one with a smile because of the fact that I remembered them, so many varieties of thought dreams. This is so big for me for since I’ve moved, the dream thief has stolen each and every one upon waking. I don’t know why I am not still given the gift down South that I had up North, perhaps the warm weather soothes the nightmares away, leaving only good words in the morning to put to life. I like to think so.
And I awoke this morning as my fingers moved, fast and steady typing on an old typewriter of all things, forcing each key down as I rushed to get the words out before they slipped away around the corner. My joints ached and I realized as the dawn of awakening tends to show, I remembered what I was doing, why my fingers ached. I was dreaming of typing poetry and capturing each dream before it was lost.
Perhaps I should sleep with the keyboard on and actually get massive amounts of writing done, but then the mind wouldn’t rest and the fingers would fall off I would think. Besides, I like my sleep and why interrupt it with light. More comes from the darkness and with the light of waking, so much lost yet so much found.