In the mid of night I sit up in bed from vivid dreams unaware of anything but the fading dream. The hour is uncertain as I look around my room trying to orient myself to my waking life.

I hear the outside world as through a filter that muffled the sounds of night.

My room is familiar and strange at the same time. Is this the dream?

Time marches across my ceiling as the sun rises, the light streaming through thin curtains.

Day arrives. I close my eyes. Dreams begin. Again I am there again less aware of the shift between laying in my bed in my room and somewhere of dream.

Categories: writing

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