Winds and rain

I didn't get to bed until midnight, somewhat inadvertently.  I popped a small handful of calcium and magnesium in the hope it would induce some drowsiness, and tried reading for a half an hour or so, but I found my eyes straying from the story in front of me and darting anxiously around the room, following motions that weren't there. Under-tired and under-rested. I set my book down and fell to sleep uncomfortably, through a flood of bright light streaming out from under the lampshade into my closed eyes. Eventually I turned it off; I don't know when. It's now twenty after four. Birds are chirping. I woke up forty-five minutes ago, coming out of a dream of the sort that's not terrible, but really makes you not want to go back to sleep. My heart is shadowed, my mind is not at ease; my spirit is unsettled... I can hardly bear the idea of going to work today, to sit in one place, and watch a screen all day. I will come home diminished: less thoughtful, less inspired, less alive. I make it a point to keep things in perspective, and be grateful for what I have, especially having so many people close to me who are struggling to get along. We all make our own beds and we must dream in them, or not at all. We all make choices, and compromises. I do not want to give myself to my job today. I could take the day off, but I won't; I can't. I will need this day later, far more than I do now. So I'll choose to forego sleep; I'll choose to be free as soon as I can; I'll choose gratitude and try to do and be well. I'll forget my dreams, though they leave their mark, and will set aside those that do not serve me. Perhaps tomorrow I will be met by something more empowering and sweet, like a letter from a dear friend who lives a world away, like the sun burning through the morning mists, like a hug before breakfast. I'll hope for a good day. Winds have a way of changing.