Sometime during the night I wrote the perfect post. It was lyrical, precise, elegant. It described how I’ve been feeling perfectly – in about six or eight sentences. I should have gotten up and written it down but I was half asleep.
Maybe I was dreaming.
I remembered it mid-morning, somewhere between the relay games and sno-cones during field day at school. Not the exact words, but that it had happened. That I had put words together in my head that were just right, just the way I wanted.
At 10:00 a.m. I couldn’t remember a single sentence.
Maybe I’m a different person at 3:00 a.m. than I am during the day.
Maybe it’s that there isn’t any noise then. There isn’t anyone needing me. I’m not feeling pushed and pulled and wanted or taken for granted. I’m not awake enough to let self-pity sneak in or to remember what it was I was worrying about when I fell asleep.
Maybe 3:00 a.m. is when I believe in myself the most.
Maybe I’m just dreaming.