Set adrift on memory bliss
I've had real difficulty getting out of bed this Saturday morning. It feels like its been months since I've had the opportunity to stay in bed and cut my overworked mind some slack. Morning relaxation time is such a precious and valuable commodity that I wasn't getting out of bed for anybody.
Just lieing there, safe and cosy under the duvet, in a place somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, lucidly dreaming at speed. And all the time listening to the sounds around me - my girlfriend in the adjoining shower, the clunks and the motor sounds from the washing machine downstairs, the gusts of wind whipping at the skylight above me. Drifting away, the stream of consciousness (or should that be unconsciousness) finding much of its own way, sometimes guided by my half-aware state.
Now that I am fully awake all that remains of this is ghosts, fleeting images and remnants of my cascade of thought. Duran Duran, time space and evolution, the route that I drive home from work, my friends who I don't see enough of and my family, Eighties heavy metal festivals, a big concrete block that housed a NASA research centre that I was involved with, the woman I love and the moments we have shared. At one point I realised that although I was dreaming there was something that had come to light that I should remember for when I woke up, and I put it on my task-list; my task-list, a lilac box of neon suspended in space, of course existed only within my dreams.
And now its good to be awake, and its good to feel alive.