Called out at 3 A.M. to see two people post-Narcan and one post-prescription-stealing-girlfriend-beating-boyfriend, I wasn't able to write from bed listening to the birds this morning.
It seems to me that the vast majority of the world is medicated and those who aren't are rich from medicating them.
I woke in my car after a nap with a disturbing word pair in mind which apparently describes an increasingly popular sexual pastime.
What would we be like without the influence of poison of any kind?
What does a pure human being look like?
Would it be more animal or angel?
A friend lets me know she and hers are safe from an explosion in a far away land.
I call her a friend, but we've never met, and I don't know her at all.
But I feel better knowing she's out there, on the other side of the world, giving an occasional thought to who she imagines me to be - something pinging on the radar screen, something more than ocean.
I dreamed of a love from long ago while sleeping in the car.
She was waiting for something, like public transportation, and I wanted to go and hug her but couldn't without making someone else mad or jealous or contemptuous of me.
Nothing is simple, not even in dreams.
But I remember she was tall, and holding her felt just right - thigh to thigh, chest to chest.
More than once I've had the feeling that this is perfect, about a moment in time, only to wake from that dream by becoming aware of it.
Here's to sleep and dreams, in cars or beds or wherever we may find them,
may we let them be as they are without the need to catalogue, quantify, or test their reliability.
It seems to me that the vast majority of the world is medicated and those who aren't are rich from medicating them.
I woke in my car after a nap with a disturbing word pair in mind which apparently describes an increasingly popular sexual pastime.
What would we be like without the influence of poison of any kind?
What does a pure human being look like?
Would it be more animal or angel?
A friend lets me know she and hers are safe from an explosion in a far away land.
I call her a friend, but we've never met, and I don't know her at all.
But I feel better knowing she's out there, on the other side of the world, giving an occasional thought to who she imagines me to be - something pinging on the radar screen, something more than ocean.
I dreamed of a love from long ago while sleeping in the car.
She was waiting for something, like public transportation, and I wanted to go and hug her but couldn't without making someone else mad or jealous or contemptuous of me.
Nothing is simple, not even in dreams.
But I remember she was tall, and holding her felt just right - thigh to thigh, chest to chest.
More than once I've had the feeling that this is perfect, about a moment in time, only to wake from that dream by becoming aware of it.
Here's to sleep and dreams, in cars or beds or wherever we may find them,
may we let them be as they are without the need to catalogue, quantify, or test their reliability.
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