Last night I slept so deep I even forgot that I was sleeping. I woke up once while I was still asleep and watched a dixie cup flutter over my head in a small circle on gossamer wings, ethereal and divine. I became sharp with fear and bafflement and the dixie cup spectral insect angel dissolved into ether.
I am so impossibly young and yet, so impossibly old. Wouldn't it be romantic to be dying so ... exotic and exquisitely headlong? No. I don't think I think so anymore.
When I was in Nevada I really did see rats in the dark of night, also that night sleeping deep below the surface after an excruciating week of insomnia. I was not just trying to be clever by saying that I saw them. And I am not being clever now. This is the second time I have not shaken off my dreams after I've shaken off my sleep.
Does this mean I have a secret brain tumor aneurysm which will catapult me upon demise into seraphic remembrance, so suddenly gone? Probably not.
Today my windows and doors are flung open under heavy black skies, heavy warm air, thunder all afternoon... deep rumbling thunder which makes me feel a comfort deep in my bones. We went walking at sunset and got caught in an impossible rainfall, a bonafide cloudburst. It was simply breath taking, a half a block away and the water in rivulets an inch deep.
I think I could throw my fist to those skies and draw down lightening to the rods in my wrist. It would be legendary. I would dress like a warrior goddess princess out of Heavy Metal magazine. That would be so awesome.
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