Is being up and tossing in the wee small hours simply a byproduct of getting old? It began with a dream. I’ll keep this short since other people’s dreams are boring.
I was Courtney Cox. The formerly vivid bits have been swept into the wind. But there was a vintage car involved. And the hitting of a game show type button.
Then my brain began dwelling on ideas for my upcoming Etsy shop.
After that, I began thinking about Tate, my grandson who is about to be two. And how I wanted to be with him for his birthday. And how I hate Chicago in December and why-oh-why didn’t he get born in August?
Usually, if I relocate to the sofa at o’dark hundred I can fall asleep. I tried to pretend I was on the sofa when still in bed. My brain wasn’t fooled.
So–off I go. Hauled my fluffy feather pillow along and onto the sofa. Sigh. I will attempt a deep breathing lobotomy.