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.