Random Acts of Dreaming

I slept for hours this afternoon and into the night. A sleep forced upon me without my consent, heavy with dark, strange, uncomfortable dreams. Dreams of a vulnerable me relying on people who shouldn’t be relied upon. It’s a common theme for me.

I am renting a room in a quiet suburban neighbourhood. It’s almost three in the morning. Through my white linen curtains flashes of light suddenly explode, followed by popping sounds like fire crackers. I want to believe it was a random act of celebration.

It’s so very quiet now.

While I dream of you and stars falling.

West Sussex ~ Photography by Robin Dalton
West Sussex ~ Photography by Robin Dalton

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