I really was last night.
Okay, I wasn’t fully asleep, but I was definitely in bed and I was having a hard time getting my brain to shut down. Pretty standard the last few nights–no wonder I’m so tired during the day. It’s not full blown insomnia, but I’m definitely losing sleep and going to bed early would not help.
While I was trying to relax and fall asleep, I started writing poetry in my head. Not for the first time, I wished I had a Stephen King typewriter mind-machine thing that could write down what I was thinking, because of course this morning I can’t remember more than the basic theme of the poem. Maybe I did dream about it, because it’s all rather vague, or maybe that was deliberate on my mind’s part. You see, in the poem, I was a ghost. I was there around my family, but nobody could see or hear me. I distinctly remember the impression of banging on glass with my fists, trying to get their attention, but still, nobody heard me.
*shivers* No wonder I’m tired this morning. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t remember the actual verses.
Revision Hell is put off until after the move is complete. There’s no need to rush now, as I got the ”Dear Author” letter yesterday.