The other morning I awoke in an overcast state of mind; cloudy with a chance of rain.
Waking up sad is never a good sign.
I realized almost instantly that the shadow of a dream had been cast ahead out of sleep where it belongs onto my morning self.
I am a person who dreams.
I can always remember fragments and sometimes entire episodes of dream when I awaken until they disperse like mist.
They are separate realms for sure, those lands of sleep and day.
Being awake is something I can understand.
Life bombards our senses.
But sleep is such a mystery.
We fight it as children,
embrace it as teenagers,
long for it as a young parent,
take it for granted and finally,
at long last,
just as we should,
come to celebrate it.
Sleep is where we plug ourselves into our pillows and recharge.
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