Days and Nights
I’ve been busy with things. The teaching, and I have stuff to read for other people. Writing for the Nervous Breakdown and for Clarion. I have a birthday coming up which fills me with both anticipation and dread. I haven’t been writing all that hard, have let the narrative threads for the novel unravel. Am becoming aware of what I have taken on again.
There are good days and not so good days. Nights of little sleep. Dreams, like the one last night, of a great tidal wave in the distance, in the future, and its devastation—flotsam and broken toys and scraps and terror already in the past, lapping at my feet.
Today I will weave a dream. A digital bridge to take me from here to there. Murky sludge of the true-facts world far below.