My Brain in the Night
I return to my bed. WHUMP! Sightless eyes behind sealed lids. Feather pillow cradles sweaty head. Handmade quilt moves up and down with each quavering breath. To the left. A cat. My fingers search. Two ears. A damp nose. Whiskers twitch. Purrs rumble under soft fur. To the right. A body shifts, curls around me, protective.
Yes. No. Maybe. Yes. Now I am.
My Brain in the Night is not my friend. My Brain in the Night waits until I retire, finds the skeleton key hidden deep in my soul, goes racing through the dungeon of my past. Cell doors clang open. Doubt, Insecurity, Regret, ooze, scamper, slither. Plotlines crafted. Conspiring secrets shared. Stories woven with such texture; sight, sound, smell, all senses alive! The Realness of Unreality such a shock that I wake sweaty, shaking, a shadow of the woman who went to bed.
Photo Credit - Greg Rosenke
A Cat to my left. A Lover to my right. Pillow under my head. Quilt across my body.
Reminders of a Reality
My Brain in the Night.