Day 112: What would you be doing if you weren’t doing this?



Oh blessed freedom of dreams, come and claim your poor servant. He is a slave to inspiration, cursed by the muses to create and drive forward to completion. There isn’t a goal in sight, but he keeps going. He feels his head nodding and then…


Morpheus, god of dreams, I beg of you to allow my spirit to wander through the darkness. Allow my inspiration to strike as my poor body rests, recuperates from the hammering upon the anvils of an ordinary work day. My body, trapped in chains akin to Prometheus while the eagle of industry pecks at my ingenuity. My tortured body begins to rest, my eyes begin to droop when…


Any deity who will listen, please just let me get some rest. Why do you curse me with this that I must have my ideas seconds before I slip beneath the darkness to rest. I must get them down, otherwise I will be stuck, rogue ideas wandering the world until they find some unsuspecting mind to sneak inside that doesn’t belong to me. I must be selfish, keep those ideas, nurture them until they are grown and ready to be loosed upon this carefree world. With that thought I can finally begin to rest until…


My head hits the pillow and a battle flashes before my eyes, fire and fury and blood surrounding my imagination, giving way as I roll over into a still lake, mysterious bodies lurking in the depths as a wave rolls in and accompanies my duvet in crashing over me, sending me tumbling into a fantasy land where everything fades to black…


It is peaceful. It is dark. I am at one with myself.

Hey, I should write that down!

The Idiot in Tin Foil


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