Dream Journal: The Drum Waits

Once upon a Christian faith, I was the hand-drummer for the church band. Couldn’t swing a drumstick without hitting myself in the eye, but I could make a djembe weep. The church band did not seek adding a hand drum as part of the permanent set, viewing such instruments with a barely concealed suspicion. (It didn’t help that the former hand-drummer floated an ego about her skill that make the djembe look small.) But faith moves mountains, the congos and djembe moved people, and the pastors were quick to capitalize on that. Continue reading “Dream Journal: The Drum Waits”

Has The Dreamer Awoken?

So hard, falling asleep. Perhaps it is from the past several weeks of too damn early mornings, and too damn late evenings. Even my nonsense dream count has faded. So trying to fall asleep, maybe I’m trying too hard. Because of the tensions in my house, I don’t feel safe. So I’m always on guard. Always keeping an ear out for sounds of trouble. As such, the normally very comfortable bed feels more to me like a pallet of concrete. The soft sheets feeling more like steel wool.

If only I had someone that would be alert for me. Someone at hand that I could give my trust to. Someone to watch over me. Continue reading “Has The Dreamer Awoken?”