Slipping Away…

 

It’s dark. Everything is dark. All your senses are tentatively reaching out only to touch darkness. Slowly, oh so slowly your eyes creep open, just a touch. Your head moves of its own volition towards the clock. Your eyes start to focus. 2, 1, 7. It’s 2:17 in the bloody morning! Your eyes burst open and your head practically levitates off the pillow. Damn! You have another three hours to sleep. Sleep. If only it was that easy. You’ve only been unconscious for . . .  three hours. Six solid hours of sleep is good, been working for you for years. It’s when it is interrupted by . . . whatever, that it becomes a problem. And then it happens.

Your eyes close in frustration, you become aware of something unusual, something enticing. You move your eyes back-and-forth behind your lids trying to find that little spark that you just saw briefly in the recesses of your mind.  You start to sigh, your frustration growing when that spark maturates, ripens.  Behind your closed eyes that intoxication begins to take form, begins to make sense. Understanding forces your eyes open wide. This is good. This is very good. Your mind continues to weave and coalesce. Images force themselves to the front of your mind, they become sharp and clear.  YES!

You are a writer and this is proof! This is going to turn the world on fire! Damn this is good! You spend the next several hours organizing, deleting, extrapolating your brilliant idea. When you’re finally satisfied, you have a brief moment of panic: you should probably write this down. You were itching to get up and put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and record this for posterity. Because that is what’s going to happen. This is going to be extolled from the highest towers of publishing. Damn it’s good.

You look over at the clock feeling drained but exhilarated. 2, 4, 5.  Wait! What? It’s only been a few minutes! Your mind is spinning  and then the unthinkable happens. You are overcome with fatigue. Your eyes slowly begin to close. You struggle to keep them open and then convince yourself that your brilliance is far too bright to be forgotten. You will remember. The gentle fingers of sleep massage your temples and pull you deeper, deeper. You sleep.

And like water seeping through your fingertips. You cannot hold back the tide and you forget. When you finally awaken you remember the brilliance, you remember the incredible feeling of satisfaction and vindication but you forget the words. You desperately try to rewind your mind; you try to catch even a glimpse of that intoxication and you can’t. It’s gone. It fades like tendrils of fog and is whispered away on the wind to be remembered no more.

Welcome to my world.

35 thoughts on “Slipping Away…

  1. Murphy’s Law

    Taking this journey into the working of your mind is fascinating, and exhausting! Your wheels never stop turning. Still, when you get to your computer what you write is magic. Lucky us!
    Ginger

    Liked by 1 person

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    1. quiall Post author

      I wrote that a few minutes after I got up. I was so afraid I would forget how I felt even though I had actually forgotten what I thought.

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  2. dweezer19

    This a perfect description, Pam. How many times has this happened to me. Years ago I bought a small tape recorder and when I awoke I made myself brief messages with key words to trigger memory. Nowadays if it’s really outstanding hubby and I will wake each other and share our ‘can’t forget’ dreams.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  3. John Hric

    You cannot tell Siri to save your thoughts – she is deep in REM and will not answer. You could write down a list yet the dream fairies will send it to the room of lost socks and lost lists. There are things far more dangerous and relentless than black holes. And they lurk around the edges of early morning brilliance…

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
    1. quiall Post author

      They are lurking a little closer than I like! I have solutions, I just need the will to do them. But when sleep beckons with her sirens’ call . . . resistance is futile.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply
  4. Sun Hesper Jansen

    I feel so miserably seen! 😂 And the worst part is I have an iPad and a pen & notebook AND a whiteboard next to my bed but sometimes I’m afraid to try to write anything down because so often the light will destroy it. Who knew stories could be photosensitive!

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply
  5. Pingback: Slipping Away… – Nelsapy

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