On Friday, Poseidon and I had dinner out, then on to a small art space to see an exhibition. After a brief stroll through the exhibit, we decided to head to one of our favorite bars downtown for a couple of beers. We haven't had a night out in a few weeks (due to that pesky surgery I had). It was a cold night, and this Swedish girl couldn't dig deep enough to find her inner-Swede, so we didn't stay out late.
Back at the ranch, pajamas on, we hopped into bed to watch a movie. As usual, Poseidon was asleep 90 seconds after his head touched the pillow. I watched the movie (can't even remember what it was) then, during the roll of the credits (I sometimes feel compelled to watch movie credits, even though I don't really care, I feel I have to satisfy some pointless need) I switched off the TV and tried to catch that next train to Slumberland.I missed the train. More than once. I could not go to sleep. I tossed and turned for over an hour,
I had so many cool ideas for writing, art projects (making stuff out of dirt and paper), sewing projects, house remodeling, clothes I wanted to buy, self-improvement ideas, things I wanted to read about, etc. My bout of insomnia will surely pay off someday!
This interior monologue I was having was amazing. I've not ever experienced this. It was so much better than dreaming. The strange thing about this, to me anyway, is that I did this the entire night. I didn't want to stop. The last time I looked at the clock, it read 4:58 am! I suppose the Slumberland train circled back to Crazychickville to pick me up somewhere between 5:00 and 5:30am. I slept until 9:30.
As soon as I got out of bed, I went downstairs to my laptop and started jotting down all the ideas I had (the good, bad, and the ugly). If any of these ideas ever come to fruition, I'll let you know, or you might see my work hanging in the walls of the train station in Crazychickville.
--Amphitrite
