(in)coherenc(i)e(s)

I’m not sleeping again.

Sometimes my subconscious refuses to let me in on what it’s doing. My only clues come from my dreams, or like now my complete inability to get any restful sleep.

Except those few nights when the world doesn’t matter, when nothing outside that circle that demarcates the border of us and everything else exists.

Those nights are absolute perfection.

Tonight, I stare at my ceiling fan during long, annoying commercial breaks as I spend my late night watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall for perhaps the second or third time.

I got about fifteen minutes of sleep earlier, and i found to my surprise that this recurring dream that I used to have has come back. I hadn’t had this dream in a very long time. It’s become somewhat updated, slightly modified during it’s time away. I rather enjoyed it, sort of like a visit from an old friend.

I have so many ideas: books, stories, poems, novellas, plays, screenplays, sit-com scripts, plots for world domination (I’ve even got an awesome script for a video game half-written in my mind). I sometimes have a very difficult time keeping them straight; they bounce around, bound around; shaking the cobwebs loose, stirring up dust: in short they sometimes make a mess of my mind.

I wish I could explain it more coherently. But I suppose that will just have to do for now.

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