It’s past 2 a.m. and I can’t sleep. I yawn constantly, but laying in bed in the dark is not helping (surprise, surprise).
Maybe I have unfinished business; judging by the number of drafts I have on here, I have loads of unfinished business.
Why am I so awake?
It’s actually disturbing me. Last night I managed to sleep a full 10 hours. Maybe that’s why – my body is not really used to long snoozes.
Maybe it’s the coffee I had… I hadn’t had coffee for two days, and today was probably enough caffeine to make up for it.
Still, I’m yawning as I type this.
Nonetheless, my mind is actually very active for this time of night, thinking about plenty of things – some to do with the legislation I’ve been reading, some to do with thoughts I have not unleashed on the page yet.
I wish sleep would come to deliver me of my thoughts. It lets me live them out in a dream. Not that they are evil or wrong in any way, but everything always seems so real, so possible, so within reach in dreams.
As soon I wake, they fade and disperse, like a drop of water splattering against the ground.
Try as I might, I could never reproduce a dream accurately. Then again, I suppose being a dreamer and a writer implies I ought to have the imagination and vocabulary to fill in the gaps.
I wonder if it’s raining.