Becoming a dream-waver

When I show up at the screen for my daily post, I really have no idea what to write. So I do (what’s that? It shows? Where do you come from anyway?) what I do when I’m supposed to fetch down a concept from concept-land – I wait expectantly for it to blossom in my head as from a fallen lotus seed. No I don’t have delusions of Buddha-hood. That’s just how it works.

Tonight I have to say the connection was a bit iffy. And I fell to reflecting on what a wonderful thing a daily journal can be, because number one you get to process all your head-shit for the day – sorry, but you don’t have to read it do you? And the very whitest lilies grow in the very darkest… places.

Thing is, possibly because I’ve been blessed with a very busy mind (Love the Afrikaans phrase for it – ‘My kop raas’ – my head is noising, literally put…)  I tend to forget things. This reminds me of some kid I read about when I was also a kid – she’d write in her daily diary – ‘Ferget what did.’  For page after page. But I forget what I did yesterday because the shutters come down when I go to sleep and that’s that day gone, mostly. My mind can’t accommodate more than one day’s shit at a time.

Is sleep really necessary?

So – while this was forming in my head as a possible theme, I glanced over the side of my screen… to find my tea which I’d very very much looked forward to, ice-cold, long-forgotten. One has to get cunning to outwit the Inner Old Timer. Not sure how to sort that, except to Never Procrastinate. Ever. No I don’t have Old-Timer’s. I have ADD which is a far more glamorous and pumping-along kind of ailment. So while I’m busy all day picking up here, leaving stuff there, I’m insanely busy and at the end of the day haven’t done what I set out to do. I suspect.

Because I’ve forgotten what that was anyway. That’s why my life is so beautiful. I forget insults and let-downs because I can’t remember most of the time, (but don’t push it) so I’m happy. I forget that I don’t know where the next job is coming from, and I haven’t known for the last twenty-odd years. If one stops to think about it, that could really cause some serious spinning around all night long.

I’m sure I have wonderful dreams – I remember textures, fantastic music, a cast of hundreds of elaborate people with fascinating back-stories that are positively exhausting – all these come to me in shattered, flashing fragments trailing behind me as I wake up and then they’re gone; only a delicious echo remains. Which isn’t enough… I’m missing out here.  so my next step, now that I’m nailing this blog every day, is to record my dreams every morning. Maybe they’ll raise their game and improve the sound and for that matter the costumes. Some of the cast are very weird too, not sure WHERE they get them from. But when they know the production is now being taken seriously I’m sure I’ll be in for a helluva time.

Selective memory – to find the balance and remember to forget the right stuff – that’s mastery. I’ll let you know how it goes.

And now to sleep, to sleep – perchance to dream.

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