I wake instantly.  It is 330 in the morning.  I am in a creative slump.  I have made nothing new nor noteworthy in months.  I have read many books.  I have walked over 50 miles in just over two weeks.  But drawing?  Painting?  Sewing?  No I am afraid not.  The dog has taken to sleeping with my daughter and I resent him for it, but as I stir dear Sadie has come to purr at my feet, which are curled under me, laptop on one knee.  I love how cats put one paw out to touch you.  My dreams are thick and opaque.  And as I write those words I realize even my writing is not fresh or new.  I love that line from the Adele song, only for her the air is thiCK and opaQUE (and the annunciation).  I suppose I could try to sleep now for one more hour.  I suppose I could get up and greet the Solstice dawn.  I suppose I could read all the blogs I have not caught up with in a while.  I suppose I could get up and walk some more.  I am torn.  I already know the day will be long.  And I will tell the 1st graders after lunch.  I am sorry I am so cranky today.  Which brings me to my dream.  A dream that someone was yelling WHAT in a strained and cranky manner.  And that I was sitting on a park bench in Clark Reservation crying my eyes out.

I am open to the mystery.  But wish that part of the mystery included sleeping just a bit better.


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