Went up on the mountain/To see what I could see

by Amy Turn Sharp


A friend of mine gave me a new red moleskine journal last week. I have been looking at it for days, unable to crack the spine because I am not sure what I want it to become for me.(Another vessel for lists or a small wish book or a to do list or ideas for writing?)
It is always so exciting to have the clean slate of possibility.

I am thinking I may use it to record the amazing dreams that Finnian tells me about each morning. It has been a few weeks now that he has apparently started recalling his dreams in clarity or he is just now choosing to share.

He has told me with sleepy rapture of his dreams that have ranged from simple play dates with friends to giant megazord characters who roast marshmallows on their tails to assorted candies and sweets and even to sad little vignettes of death. It is fascinating. I can only wake and sorta remember a feeling of a dream. I can sense if my dream was something pleasant or not. I think my brain activates with a jarring start the moment I wake. I am jealous of Finn. He wakes peaceful and doesn't have so much shit in his head yet to take away the dreams. Lucky boy.

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