Singing Bowls

A long night without much sleep, but the body can use the downtime. Maybe it is that I'm feeling a bit of cabin fever. It might be time to get out to a meeting. I only worry about the GI unrest for a longer trip out. I will give it some thought.

In those small snippets of sleep I still have varied dreams. None are troubling but there are some strange ones. Sometimes it'shard to separate the dreams from the odd thoughts. They blend together and blur the margin between sleep and waking.

Now I sit and look at the screen wondering what I will write next. As if I were watching someone else at the keyboard. I come in and sit in the second row in the darkened room. I face the little raised stage and the figure sitting quietly in the light at the desk. The next demonstration of writing will begin in a minute or two. I'm excited to see what the person will write today. There is a projection screen mounted above the desk so that the audience can see what is being type. This makes it nicer for the people in the crowd. There is a placard on an easel that we pass as we enter the dark room, it says, "Please remain quiet once the writing has begun!" Apparently it is easy for the writer to lose track of what they wee intending to write. Imagine that. Thoughts so delicate and fragile that a mere sound can fracture them and cast them into disorder. I am very interested to see what is written.

All for now. More later,


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