Tonight, I’m drinking a cup of hot chamomile and mint tea and letting the cool, fall breeze blow into the windows.
It’s night time, but that’s when I come alive.
There are dreams that happen during the night time (of which I remember few), and dreams that occur during the day. Most of my dreams happen during the day. I’m an avid dreamer. I walk around dreaming of words that need to be arranged in an order–or rearranged, images to be sketched out, and paints that need to be mixed up and spread onto a crystal, white canvas.
For someone who’s had a lot of nightmares–both in the day time and at night–it’s nice to have my dreams back. What’s extra special about these dreams is that I’m not being told what to dream, or even directed how to dream.
They’re mine–all mine.