I've never been what one might call a natural sleeper. I'm often more familiar with the colors of the night sky than the daylight one because I'm often waiting for daylight to show up. But last night was particularly long. If I'm awake, the cat feels free to start yowling for breakfast at midnight, and even though I know he's not starving to death, when he pretends he is, I feel compelled to do something. Which, I fear, he has discovered. (I lasted till 5:03 a.m.) And then, about 8, I went to bed. I'm awake again at noon, having dreamed about running and strange colors and falling.
Stress? The knowledge that my body clock is incapable of telling time? I don't know, but I wander my house like Hamlet's stinking ghost, eyeing the darkened windows in the houses around us, envying all those sleeping people.
Oh, well, gotta get to work. Hopefully, those scary dreams have built up some adrenaline-fueled creativity.
Happy Monday--halfway through the day!
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