Mikes Writing

Thought Pot

This morning at 2am. Not my greatest moment but one that seems to repeat with enough repeats to make me tired of it. I know sometimes when it happens I will get back to sleep. Other times, little dervishes of time and space seem to want to play. They come along and ask for some of both time and space. They want me to know at 3am then they own me. That what once happened will be twisted around and I'll get another version of a thing that happened. I have to put down the thing to pick it back up again and reason it out.

I think it started in some dream before. Normally then I sleep so soundly and well. Maybe I only need 5 hours of sleep really and the 2 or 3am wakeup is a herald. It's a telling that I could be up and doing some writing. I often do laying in bed in the journal. I turn to it because I just flow there at that time. Then I just write. The morning thoughts or whatever time it is at 2am.

Usually by after 3 I manage another few hours of sleep. I am so grateful for that. I think the hell spawn hours for me are the dark times from 3 or 4 to 6. I don't like those times at all. I don't want to be up and I cannot sleep.

This morning though thankfully I did get more sleep. These sharp and decisive almost three hours that let the time go by when I would face my little Hell. Those hours before. Instead, it's now after 630am and here I am writing. I realize now I have less than an hour and I will go walk and have coffee somewhere.

I wrote a thing for my wife's birthday. I decided I will simply do this and that. For this, I finally silenced the internal and infernal critic that asks me to ponder a thing that was born from some shambolic dream state before. Of course it was wrong and I knew it when the little memories came back. I had dreamt something about some person.

Now I have some coffee and music in the morning. The real morning. And I know one thing. I simply cannot wait to leave the house this morning. That comes along whether its real or that 2am devil time where I wonder why I'm awake and some part of me mumbles,

its the house. You don't like it here so things suffer.

Things like dreams. Memories. Thoughts on a thing. It ended up in the journal this morning at 2am.

My little thought pot that serves so well.