Semi-Daily Scribbles

Sleep is rarely a restorative endeavour. For me, the slightest sound rattles and disrupts. When I do enter the realm of REM, brain and nervous system kick into hyperdrive. I often have flight dreams where fleeing the scene of some impending peril sets my heart to racing. I am also regularly visited by those who have passed on. The dead always have much to say, but it’s a damn tricky thing to decipher their riddle-speak. I scramble upon awakening to write down the images that were etched into my (sub)consciousness. Needless to mention that if my brain could retain actual dialogue from these encounters, I’d be sitting on a stack of completed manuscripts. As it stands, I have half-formed thoughts and embrionic ideas handwritten and typed all over the place. Ah, my restless soul and wandering mind. If I could just inject some discipline into my idle bones, well…then I’d have a story to tell. I owe it to the dead that take the time to talk to me.

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