I awoke from a dream to the low bellow of a passing ship sounding its foghorn. While only connected by that temporal moment (the ship and the dream) – the passing of each seemed heavy with metaphor. I couldn’t see the ship nor the fog, and I couldn’t remember any of the dream’s details. Soon enough both ship and dream would be gone. The only thing left would be the waking along with some vague memory that these two things happened.
That was a little before 5am. I woke and wrote and ate. I read and wrote some more. It’s later now. The sun is not yet up – another 20 minutes or so. The blinds, still closed, keep the darkness out and the houselights in. I’m tired and stretched out on the sofa – laptop on my lap, throw blanket wrapped around my shoulders. I’d like to take a nap. I’d like to reclaim those dreams or at least the sleep that was interrupted shortly before my alarm was set to go off. I close my eyes. 5 minutes pass. I jolt awake.
It’s a sleepy Monday morning – gray and dense with fog.