Somewhere in my slumber I hear a name, feel an urge, know a memory.
Something wants out, to be put on display, written and acknowledged.
Waking slowly, I slip out of bed unsure of what my mind is thinking.
My mind's eye is in charge--our muse is dancing, she is laughing, gleefully dictating words that I do not speak, talking faster than I can write. The party has already started. I am the last to arrive.
The mind races trying to keep up with the band. I hear a perfect sentence and in a second it is gone. I need that sentence, but it is gone...I can't conjure it up. It is out of reach but still close. It refuses to budge. It dances with my muse in the fringes of my imagination, just out of reach, only vaguely familiar.
Elusive, fleeting, fading.....then gone.
With it goes my story.
Creatures who will never breathe, never live and never die, unless I say so, are gone.
Sobering thought. Followed by a sigh, a yawn and the promise of sleep.
The story escaped tonight.
Crawling back into bed, trying to remember and failing miserably, it is released. I yearn for sleep, knowing it will not come easy or fast.
Muse have fun!
Another time, please make it soon.
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