27
I lay awake in bed, the ringing in my ears loud, the restlessness pulsing in my body. There’s no sleepiness. I am tired, coming off little sleep, the weight of the day fueling my exhaustion, but sleep’s something that washes off my body, leaving now just this: the early morning dissonance. The thoughts that flit through my mind are disordered. I think about the story for a screenplay I’m reworking, and then another screenplay that I’m meant to rework; the revision for my sci-fi novel, and the struggle to reshape it; the book I desperately want to write; and then, memories of my best friend, and my ex, both jostling…
25
I wake to a sudden weight that lands on my chest. Something has sprung on me and seized me. In the darkness, I shout and push, feeling immediate resistance. Then I thrust my hands out, flinging whatever’s on me to the floor by the window. I squint and I’m sure I can make out some shadowy form. More and more, consciousness takes hold. The last tendrils of sleep lose their grip on me. All the typical rationalizations kick in and, as they kick in, whatever I’m seeing fades. A dream. A dream. A dream. So cliché, but it’s the easy out, and the simplest way to classify what happened as…