I was changing the bed sheets, one morning, when I noticed a smattering of half-formed letters in blue on the corner of my pillow case.
Could it be, my unformed poems are dripping out of my dreams, I mused.
But, before I could get too, too carried away my sensible wife pointed to the ink on my hands, where I'd been scribbling notes the previous night 🙃
With my over-active imagination, I'm never too sure about this dream within a dream…
Who knows when and how their overflowing inner life might spill forth?
Speaking of that liminal space, between waking and dreaming, perhaps you might enjoy my new book 👇🏼