I lie in bed and life goes by in slow motion, bits and pieces, good and bad. But guilty memories refuse sometimes to sleep, and turn to guiltless dreaming. Dependent on, perhaps the point at which the restless mind succumbs to weariness, the movie halted at a point of guilty pleasure. And then delicious dreaming can embellish and pretend.
Most often, the strangest dreams begin within a house of many, many, rooms and filled with strangers with but a scattering of familiar faces in the crowd. This night’s is most unusual in that five close to me are there as well, but non-judgmental and I’m free to follow through without conscience as Director of the scene. Dali nights infused with Hemingway.
And no one has to know.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
Simply beautiful! I can so connect with the moment and mood described here in such eloquent language. Conflict and confusion in my own life, as well as trying to get along with the act of living, has prevented me from dropping by as much as I would like. But it’s wonderful to know that when I do get a chance to come by, I will be greeted by such wonderful nuggets of honesty and poetic prose.
BTW, I LOVE the new look. Bravo you!
Lauren