Because the Night
Are you a night owl or are you the early bird? What’s your most productive time of day? When do you do your best work?
I can’t write- because I’m tired.
I can’t write because I’m fresh out of ideas.
I don’t want to write because I’d rather eat pizza and watch Cupcake Wars.
When you write that down and look at it, you’d think a writer come come up with better excuses than that.
The problem is I stopped writing and I got a little rusty.
So my excuses got lame.
They were so lame I never said them out loud.
I just did them.
Until the nightmares started.
I was having dreams about being lost in abandoned buildings, fancy grand hotels and empty streets
The signs on the buildings and street signs were a jumble of letters and numbers- which isn’t a surprise. When I dream I can’t read , everything is a collection of letters I don’t even recognize.
I thought I was looking for a way out of the dream. Maybe I thought I could walk through the right door, go down the right street and I’d be back in my bed safe and sleeping.
I would dream a man- sometimes I talked to him directly. Sometimes he would walk by me in a crowd or I’d saw his face in a picture hanging on a wall.
In the last ghost town dream I had he was walking towards me and as we passed each other he said, ” Needs must as the devil drives.”
I asked what.
” How would you like to come back here every night?”
” It’s daytime.” I looked up into the dream sky- which was blue and the sun was shining.
” You know what I mean. Lost in one place or another every night of your life until the day you die.”
” Lost in my own head?”
” No. Lost in mine.”
” This is my dream.”
He looked around.
I looked around.
” This.Is. My. Dream.” he insisted.
It was true.
That’s why nothing was familiar in these dreams.
I screamed myself awake.
Needs must as the devil drives- no matter how tired I am or how tasty the cupcakes look, I write every night now before I go to sleep.
And when I dream, they’re my dreams.