wakeful dreaming

i read and then i think i can write. it's a weird train of thought, so i won't try to completely explain.

this morning: "i pushed toward my destiny and my destiny pushed right back. not hard, but it got my attention. i was perfectly still and laid on top of my covers. waking up is a lot of work. it takes so much energy sometimes it almost forces me to go back to sleep and try it again later. for all the effort, i think i should probably just sleep more and try less. but still i try...

"i can hear my kids in the other room. the far away kingdom where my husband rules with an iron fist. actually, i think it must be cotton that's been manipulated and artistfully covered with paint to appear as iron. i can hear it clearly. the girls have him on the run.

"i have my life mapped. i know where i will end up. i think. maybe. stupid! stupid! stupid! in reality i remain perfectly still staring toward the blank popcorn ceiling of our dorm room while my pretend eyes see. see my imaginary second head banging itself into the comfort of a transparent brick wall hovering compassionately inches above my real self.

"i should be terrified. the wall is crumbling with obvious force. crashing on my real me from head to toe. i reassess my body trying to discern my response. i am still. my head casually resting on my right hand with both arms folded behind and above my head. my legs are crossed and limp. i might as well be fishing by a lazy stream in the carolina's somewhere. ah... fishing...

"wait. i don't fish. bubble burst. next thought. kids.

i should go and pretend to be of assistance. i let loose a deep sigh of resignation. i love my life. real or imagined. it's just nice to be me."