THE RIVER, THE ANGELS AND THE FIELD

I feel a wreck today. Scruffy clothes thrown on, tear-stained face, hair plastered to my head, still wet from the shower. I also feel like if I close my eyes for longer than a few seconds, I might not be able to open them again for a few hours.

I had wild, crazy dreams last night. One minute I was being pulled helplessly along the Niagara river, caught in the flow that dragged me closer and closer to the Falls. I couldn't work out whether or not I wanted to tumble over the edge.

Then, I was slumped in the corner of an all-night prayer meeting, listening to angels with violins. I was the only one who could hear them, and everybody else was talking over the top. I couldn't speak at all for some reason. But listening was beautiful.

Finally, I was in a field, waiting for somebody. There was a tree, right in the middle, its green leaves lit by the sun and caught by the summer breeze. The wind rippled through the tall grass and made me shiver in the shade.

So, it seems my brain might actually be doing more than just processing memories after all then. I have no idea what any of this means. The river, the angels and the field; I was alone in each one. I woke up and stared at the lampshade through blurry eyes.