I've been dreaming my ass off lately but only at daybreak. It always feels strange and magical, no matter how often it happens, falling asleep in late morning hours when the rest of the world is awaking. The fact that I had to force my eyes shut at 6:30am is something that I can't explain the feelings about. I'm sick, in case you never knew.

I've been thinking about my dreams so much lately, running them over in my mind as the details withered up like the petals on the dead flowers in my room. I don't remember them now but it doesn't matter. They were there and they left an impression on my brain and if you've never experienced that than I can't help you.

My next story that I write will have something to do with the following quote:

I don't know what I look like with my eyes closed.