I awake into this week from a dream where I was talking to a wise man about my cat. In another time the wise man might have been a seer or a shaman: but in this world he is a movie director.
Awake, I try to brew myself a damn fine cup of coffee. At first I look for the milk in the wrong cupboard, even though I know where it is kept. Perhaps… I am not awake yet. Perhaps I am still dreaming.
Words assail me like the ocean and I scoop them up with a little cup. How long would it take for me to empty the ocean one scoop at a time? At least 10,639,735,000 years. My arms would fall off long before I finished.
Good morning, Monday.