we made the bed.

 

It seems my day dreams - when I sleep and the sun still pours itself through my window, though I cover it with accordioned shades - are more vibrant than my night dreams. Day makes dozing heavier. I feel my body pulled down, strained through a colander, grasped by the dripping strings of spaghetti that get caught in the perforations - just too dilated. This extra tension frees my trance into the world of real plot and conflict, one unachievable after dusk.