Some have said they dream in color but I dream in words. In my dreams, I come up with brilliant stories, the stuff the great American novel might be composed of. Then I wake up and I struggle to write sentences any more complex than,
The cat is big. And the cat can run fast. I don’t like cats. But sometimes I admire them.
What should I do? Sleep more? Sleep less? Set my camera to record my nighttime mumblings in the off chance that I say my brilliant dream stories out loud as I imagine them?
Live your dreams, they say. I would be happy if I could only remember mine long enough to write them down.
*Sorry my recent posts have just been stream of consciousness ramblings. I promise I will get back to other stuff soon but for now, this is just where I am. Thanks for reading my thoughts.*