I'm getting really good at squeezing extra hours into my dreams. Most who know me know that the ideas for my writing come via dreams, so sleep is crucial for me. I sleep in 4 to 12 hour stretches, waking after 9 hours no matter what. Today, I did stretch a few extra hours in though. I couldn't help it. A love story was unfolding and I wanted to be sure it played out all the way. Of course it never does. My dreams always end with a woman and man finding each other through the crowded celestials. They kiss, they fuck, they love. It is always that way, in my dreams. Now if only I can make a good story that isn't neccessarily a romance, that goes exactly like my dreams. I'm a sucker for the kiss.
Early the next day : 3:54
Opened my eyes a little before one. I woke--different. Little by little, the light is breaking through and its not even close to dawn. Am I becoming what I dream or am I dreaming that I am? Either way, is life really a dream? or a rich soul's concept?
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