dreaminghope | Waking dreams and sleeping days

I pull a pen out of a box of black pens. The cap's black; the end of the pen's black. I jot down a note; the ink is blue. I just stare at my handwriting on the page, knowing that there's something odd about that, but not being quite sure of what.

I'm sleep-deprived. The technical name for what I've been experiencing is hynagogic hallucinations, which sure sounds important. The experience is surreal, a dream, complete with dream logic, superimposed over the real world.

I'm talking to a customer on my headset while in bed. It doesn't matter that I am naked; the customer is on the phone and can't see me. Poor Russ tries to tell me that I'm dreaming. "Be quiet, Russ; I'm on the phone."

Someone's in my bedroom, watching me. Though they don't have any obvious malicious intent, I'm not going to be able to rest until they leave. I throw tissues at them, to get them to leave. Russ, my long-suffering darling, thinks that one's particularly amusing, once he gets over his annoyance at being woke suddenly by his bedmate sitting bolt upright in bed, chucking tissues at the door.

I have a long, involved discussion with

barry_macneil in my sleep. I'm awake enough to know I'm in bed; asleep enough to dream him into my bedroom. Awake enough that sleep-deprived Russ has to listen to my side of the conversation; asleep enough that I don't remember anything about the conversation after.

I'm not fully asleep, so I don't ever feel fully awake after. My black pen with blue ink becomes surreal and develops symbolic importance without any meaning.

My dreaming and waking life slide into each other, and I drift from one state to another, never resting in either.

I want black pens to have black ink, and for no one to be in my bedroom tonight except Russ and I.

I am really, really tired.