This morning I awake to the sound of bells. Clarion clear, not of-this-world bells, the bells of my dream world. They are otherworldly beautiful. Golden. How can one describe music in words? It's a difficult exercise. I was there again. In that place of sunlit fields and dusty roads. Azure skies and air fresh and cool. And I there, healthy, tanned and strong. But the memory vanished like smoke when I opened my eyes. I haven't been there in weeks and I begin to understand why. It's my alarm clock.
This morning was a scheduled 'sleep in' day with no alarm. The 6:45 of my usual day doesn't allow me to get to that place, or possibly doesn't allow the transition, which is the only opportunity for bringing back any sort of memory.
Today was no exception, really. I didn't bring anything back except the silent space where the music was. But that was enough at least to know I was there. But, was I? The brain is a terrible and wonderful thing. Bigger inside than out.
What is this place? I honestly don't know.
I do know that we work things out in our dreams and that my dream life has always been strong. My schedule has been off for awhile. I don't know why, but when my morning alarm sounds I awake with dread and emptiness. I must talk myself into getting up and doing the things I need to do. Mostly it's the sort of morning hurdles everyone must jump over. I'm sure you know what I mean.
So I get myself up each morning, put on the coffee and do all the things expected of me and then some. I'm a little torn, actually. Possibly it's better if I'm never reminded of this other place. But then, time spent there allows glimpses of truth that make sense.
Sigh. Here it is bedtime again. No alarm tomorrow, for it's the weekend. Perhaps I'll have another visit. Tell me, please, where do you go when you sleep? Do you frequent any particular place?
It's warm here in the desert. We're having a sort of 'false spring' with the streets dusted with pollen and trees in bloom. It could be that winter is over here, or it could get cold again and the blooms drop and we have no fruit next winter.
Just moments ago, Orion and I followed our heroes as they cowered against the Lonely Mountain, waiting for Smaug to vent his wrath and destroy them. We both have high hopes that luck will prevail and Bilbo will find a way to save them.
I wish you good dreams and that you awake with anticipation of your Saturday.