I have to laugh: the preface sounds almost as if it means something. Ghostly storytellers and night-blue mirrors aside, it begins with a question which, for me, aptly defines the dream experience, and that of sleep and wakefulness as well. Which is which, though, remains agreeably subject to question. Of course this is familiar ground; I speak of it often; I might even say that most, if not all, of […]
We make our music, and play our way to dusk; when the mists gather, we seek the warm glow of the hearth. Late at night, one by one, the coals close their eyes. The train flies west. We hear it through our open window. No sleep. Only peace, flight, breath. Grandpa said he’d be right back. He was talking about the sun, I guess. ~ [ 2004 ]
Aye, there’s the rub. For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause. When in doubt, quote Shakespeare. And when you’re not in doubt, quote yourself, that others may doubt you — not that they deserve the chance, but it will make them feel better after having had yet another rough night’s sleep. Because the truth is, […]
The face on the right might be appropriate for a volume about ancient Rome; the one on the left looks almost as old, as if a monk long ago had seen it in a dream — or maybe the dreamer was drawn by another monk while he was asleep. Or maybe both were asleep. Either way, however it happened, I myself awoke from a dream this morning in which I […]
The mail was late yesterday, but among the usual junk was a package containing two books from the Library of America — one being the volume by Henry James mentioned recently, Collected Travel Writings: The Continent; the other a collection of early work by Gertrude Stein, Writings: 1903-1932. And so the stacks grow a little higher and a little deeper. . I slept remarkably well last night, and woke up […]
As soon as I entered the building, I forgot the name of the person I was there to see. Thinking it would help me remember, I went up and down the halls, looking at the names on the doors, but none seemed familiar. By the time I’d checked them all, and assuming I was now late for my appointment, I stopped to ask for help in a reception area that […]
If you find it difficult to appreciate so many miracles, be wise and take joy in the one. . Once, in this very room, I came upon a family of sleeping elephants. I curled up amongst them and became part of their dream. When we finally awoke, you were watching, hesitating. . It’s a big world out there. It’s only small between our ears. It’s a small world out there. […]
I awoke early this morning feeling it was time to start the day. Then I read the kitchen clock — 2:58. So I stretched out on the floor again and slept for what felt like a good solid hour. The clock read 3:31. Ten minutes later, I was out in the street for a run. . A raft of lemons adrift at sea. The funny way you look at me. […]
I’m not only a floor-sweeper, I’m a floor-sleeper. And I’ve never swept, or slept, better. I sweep my dreams, those I can remember, and I sleep my broom. We both are kind to dustpans. Over the years, I’ve found all mattresses to be back-breakers. Finally, it dawned on me that humans aren’t really meant to sleep that way. Now I can stretch out anywhere, on any firm surface, drift off […]
Having nothing to say, having no message to relate — such days are to be savored. What is sleep but the flowering of one’s life during the day? What is day but the flowering of one’s sleep? Or, to put it another way, we sleep what we sow. Cleaned the blinds on our seven tall south-facing windows, ahead of bringing in our houseplants for the winter. Read the eighth chapter […]
William Michaelian 