I had a dream that I was sleeping coming in and out of dreaming and after each dream it would appear good to me like something that should be in writing and I would think of how to write it But I was so tired so I would fall back asleep before I could get up to write anything down and then wake up again having had another dream that seemed to me like it would be good in wiring – Only sometimes did i know, in my stupor, that i had forgotten the dreams before, while other times i would unconsciously descend into another bout of sleep while conjuring up the thought in words to be written and at the same time mustering the energy to get out of bed and grab my phone from the kitchen counter and having something to write it but not making it and falling back asleep.

all of this, happening and wondering – one, why could i not formulate the thought and get up to write it before falling asleep again, and starting to feel loss and disappointment that I could capture none of it while feeling that some of these dreams should have been captured; two, and this was a particularly peculiar part, upon the fifth or sixth or seventh or maybe 100th dream and really feeling A frustration at this point having forgotten so much and if it it had just been forgotten no worries fucking van combined with the fact that there had been something good that I had missed either because I could not write it and share it later on or because I could not even remember it myself and maybe relive it for even having seemed to have lived at once if only just by remembering it once; but now, I digress again, because what really happened is this.

I awoke this time differently still laying in my bed and trying to think of the words only to realize that this time I had awoken into my actual bed and a reality that is more real in each of the times and walking after the sixth or seventh or hundred dreams for you to realize that this time was the first time then I actually work in all the times before were dreams within a dream of me sleeping and going to sleep and dreaming and experiencing something that is very familiar to me which is living a dream wanting to write it and then forgetting it over and over again so now is the only time that I am in reality real enough where I can actually get out of bed and grab my phone off the kitchen counter and actually write it only now I can write nothing specific about all the changes and dreams and can only write generally – not specifically about any of the six or seven or 100 dreams that were each stories or ideas or things that needed to be put down into words that people have not found yet to formulate ideas that are you and everyone would explain are yes I have thought that before I just didn’t know how to say it this is what a writer really tries to get after after all. So explaining my disappointment for having lost all of it and feeling this to be not unlike living mini lives and dying and not remembering your former lives and not only having lost the memory to recall the life clinic 30 but sometimes not even having remembered it in the first place such that it is questionable whether you can even say what it was lived at all if you can’t remember it or another words if you never met entered your mind with any clarity at least once there is a tragedy here that is at the core of my motivation to write in the first place and that is the desire that things should be written down, recorded, preserved, allowed to live on, or in some cases allowed to live at all even just once.

Conversely the tragedy I feel as a writer is having lost. Having forgotten, having never gotten something in the first place having let something pass by or die or not otherwise made something live and be shared in touch first my own mind at least once but then many other moments and have lived in many other lives caring on it written word And creating imagination, fantasy idea, story, ideas the minds of others that are in someways each lives that are given the hour to need to live again again with each reader.