Time to dream

I’ve been sleeping for days.  Basically the whole week.  If there is time to lay lie, time to sleep, spend the morning in bed, tucked in early to read, reclined on the sofa eyeballs deep in a book, wander in dreamland, trying to meet the sandman.  That’s me.  Sleeping beauty.  Snoring silently to the rhythm of dreams, I find adventure in the skies, in the seas, in the whirlwind of fantasy.  My dreaming life has always been vivid, way more exciting then the mere day to day adventures, way more fun, and I am way more in control.  There’s that serenity to all the action and possibility of harm, and sense of unity with all the rapid changes and wild twists the dreamtale takes; underneath the crazy characters, I am the mastermind steering the ship in the right direction.  Usually.  Usually the nighttime adventures are rad, but there are always those strange, weird, almost foreboding dreams that fuck up your whole day, like your shadow is a shade darker.  Its haunting.  But those are a rare bread.  I get so lost in the dream world that I want to neglect the one in which I am actually awake, the one where I can write and don’t forget my phone number, or have inexplicably heavy legs.  I get so caught up in that ultimate fantasy, that not even the promise of breakfast is enough to snap me out of ever changing land into this stable world.  Alas, today I have broken the sleeping spell.  I felt the thin glass of dreary constraint slip off.  It shattered, leaving me free to think and imagine and sense the tactic world once again.  I had to sleep enough to wake up from the constant sleep I was in.  The answer to the sleepy numbness that you get lulled into after the day to day routine is simply more sleep.  Sleep until you dream the prince charming, dream until hopeful.

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