Dream

I dream often, but normally by the time I awake, the images have dissipated like a wisp of smoke on a windy day.

Last night I dreamed of a song that's been dancing on the edge of  conscientiousness, and it came into focus as clear as a guppy in well kept aquarium.

I woke up at 3:33 a.m. and the song was still there. I remember because I looked over at the digital clock by our bedside. 

"I should get up and write this down," I thought to myself. But instead I closed my eyes and a few seconds later I was fast asleep again.

Most of the time that would have been the end of the story, but this morning, I woke up a little early and laid in bed. 

Before my feet touched the floor, I remembered the music and the lyrics to the chorus. I got up and fired up the coffee and I picked up the guitar and diddled around until my fingers found the chords.

Before Jilda had reached the point where it was safe to talk to her without fear of injury, I started humming the melody.

When I started singing the words, it was obvious the draft was rough but even though she couldn't speak, she ID'd the weak spots in the lyrics and fixed them. She didn't say anything but she tapped the notebook with her pencil.

I smiled when I read over what she'd written.

The song still has a long way to go, but it feels good. I don't want to jinx the song so I'm not going to say much more.

I know this -- the brain is a remarkable instrument. If we could capture the thoughts, images, and ideas that flit through our brains at random while we sleep, there is no telling what we could accomplish.

I'll be writing all day tomorrow on stories that are due this week. I hope you all have a remarkable Wednesday.