I’m lying inside our van, horizontal but not laid straight, listening
to the world wake up. The darkness has various shades due to a jagged strip of stormy light seeping
through a break in the curtain.
As the night's excesses wear off, my head throbs
relentlessly; my mouth’s bone dry no matter how much water I sip. My mind races
on.
Normality picks up a pace outside but I try to ignore the
muffled sounds and any thought of thoughts in case they string together into
meaning. Reality is still slanted and slurred inside the metal can.
I am physically shattered, but real rest escapes me, instead
there’s shattered sleep sliced with shards of fragmented memories: fraught
thoughts, blurred lines, snippets of broken conversation and mismatched words.
Time slowly ticks by and I cannot help reflect on everything past.
My eyes flicker open and I’m faced with drops of
condensation slowly edging down the inside of the glass. I blow out bursts of frosty
vapour while my warm legs twitch relentlessly under the duvet.
As my mind slides in and out of consciousness, it’s hard to
pick apart what is real or false, or if I'm actually sleep.
What do writers dream of? A voice inside my head asks.
I answer carefully. When asleep, not a lot. Our sleep is
scattered, our minds overly-active. We churn conversations, memories and
aspirations over (and over) in our heads. Our thoughts are too furious for uninterrupted
rest.
What do writers dream of? The voice asks again. Don’t they
dream?
I open my eyes.
Yes we dream. We dream more than most, but usually when we’re awake.
Yes we dream. We dream more than most, but usually when we’re awake.
Nisha P Postlethwaite is author of 'The First Sense' fiction eBook based in the Lake District and Cumbria, available from several online retailers. To find out more visit www.nppostlethwaite.com
On twitter I'm @nppostlethwaite
Don't forget to like The First Sense on Facebook
On twitter I'm @nppostlethwaite
Don't forget to like The First Sense on Facebook
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