The Breathy Sound of Sleep

I never wake from my dreams the way they do in the movies. There are many things I never do.

My recent dreaming has largely been filled with the things I do my best to avoid thinking about when I am awake. As if that ugliness needs an outlet. As if it just waits until my conscious defenses relax. I feel myself wearying. Drained by the act of sleep itself. Waking with some urgency. It's easier to take pictures when the sun is out. Only certain things flourish in the dark.

I am the restless agent of my own undoing. That's what dreaming tells me. So I avoid it. Starting fires late in the night so I will have a reason to stay up and watch them burn. And however late I begin, I end as early. And things look only slightly different in the wash of mid-morning. Some things drive you to the brink. But staying awake is no excuse for staying asleep.

It's especially sad when the writing on the wall manages to write itself on the walls of your dreams. That's a persistent form of anguish.