Dreams are eluding me.
Not the night time sort, wild fragments of story-telling from my beautiful sub-conscious mind.
No, I mean the daytime sort of dreams, those that come clearly defined and neatly delineated, the things others talk of dreaming about, dreaming of, planning for, working to make happen.
I go to that place in my mind, in my heart, where I think the dreams might be, and there is nothing. Silence. A blank screen.
I write, to myself, and some others whom I trust, that I feel lost without dreams, disconnected from the world of dreamers, puzzled by their dreaming, disconcerted by the absence of my own. Continue reading