In morning / in daylight

I know that I had something to say.

I woke at four this morning, my brain struggling to recall words that had risen to the surface while I dreamed.  What, what? I strained to recapture the elusive revelation.  Before long, I drifted back to sleep.

When the alarm rang at six, I found that for the second day in a row, I could not walk.  I had a long conversation yesterday with a friend who faces the progression of his MS.  I shared my lay-person’s understanding of spasticity and what impacts it.  Changes in character with age, is what my neurologist has always said.  Indeed.  I did the stretches-before-rising which I learned from an Angela Lansbury book decades ago.  I found my center.  I stood.  Shaky but ambulatory.  Oriented times three.  I headed for the stairs down which I have not fallen, not once, in twenty-three years.  I kept my record intact and made it to the first floor.

In the kitchen, I waited for the kettle to boil the water for my tea. I avoided the sight of the burnt pan in the sink.  My smoke alarms got a surprise inspection last night which they failed.  Note to self:  Buy 9 volt batteries.  Note to self:  Don’t leave burner on low.  For an hour.  While you write, cruise social media, and half-watch home improvement shows.  Mindlessly.

And the soup burns.

Still I strive to draw that great realization from my subconscious.  I know that I had something to say.  What?  What great truth came to me in the night?  I look around my house, comfortable, not fancy.  I think about the events of yesterday.  Did something happen which caused me to ponder a problem as I slept?  Did I solve it?

The radio says it’s eight o’clock.  I have a meeting at ten.  Whatever marvelous scheme I planned in my dreams will go unrealized.  I must get on with my day.  An ordinary day.  A day without the dawning miracle of solutions which came to me in sleep and ran from me in the dark of my bedroom, at four a.m., while the rest of the world continued blissfully unaware.

It’s the fifteenth day of the twenty-fifth month of My Year Without Complaining.  I’m no closer to understanding but life continues.

No particular reason for including this except that the sight of these objects on my window still prompted me to smile and raise my camera.  The little red angel-box on the left and the white Remembrance angel on the right came to me from women whom I dearly love and whom I miss.  The wooden house in the middle is a still-functioning music box which my Grandmother Corley gave me when I was five.

No particular reason for including this except that the sight of these objects on my window still prompted me to smile and raise my camera. The little red angel-box on the left and the white Remembrance angel on the right came to me from women whom I dearly love and whom I miss. The wooden house in the middle is a still-functioning music box which my Grandmother Corley gave me when I was five.

 

One thought on “In morning / in daylight

  1. Pat

    Keep a dream journal by your bed and scribble down your dreams when you awaken. That way they come back easily once you get up. Sometimes that helps me figure out the meaning or point of it. Just an idea

    Reply

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