I was sleeping through my life until you came along, now even in my dreams I'm waking up to your song.
Waking up to skies lit by the wintry sun is a sort of visual poetry.
Upon waking up my brain replays the last few scenes of my dreams.
In the soft white-gold light of the new day, the hues of my bedroom move from impressionist pastels to brilliant pop art.
Waking up comes real slow and relaxed, as if the day was kind enough to come softly into focus.
Waking up next to you is moving from one dream to a better kind.
Waking up is a transition from the world of dreams into the day, and for that it is good to take a little time. For then we may ponder the messages of our dreams, weave them into the truth of our lives, and feel ready to greet the day.
I wake the way kings wake, just the same. We are all blessed with the same time, the same experience of consciousness. My eyes greet the dayshine, my heart and lungs expand. There are times that I feel that I must have been so blessed to live the same day over and over, even though I age, for those first few moments are so identical. At first there are the dreams, then the sense of welcoming a new day, the anticipation of whatever comes.
I wake as if it's an emergency, as if sleeping had become a dangerous thing. My heart beats fast and there is a buzzing in my brain and together they are as panic with jump-leads. Only now my brain is as a flat battery, the exertions of the night being a marathon of erratic problem-solving. And so this day will pass as if I am hungover, not from drink, but from the nightmares that demand solutions.
Give me a moment to shed the sleep from my brain, to allow the visions of the night to give way to the day, to move from that which I create on a whim to things more fixed and real. In a few minutes I will be able to greet the sunlight, to see the colours as bright as the backlit images of cinema screens; I will adjust. For now let it come with the subtleness of a gentle dawn and let me doze underwing. I'll be there soon, I'll wake up, you'll see.
Upon walking up the dreaming-ether applies one more layer of salve, then dresses my soul for the day ahead, not in armour but amour.
With you, waking up is so easy to do.
From the carousel of random ideas comes some order - a subtle awareness of who I am under the flow of thoughts with their loose connections to my waking life. After a few moments more I begin to analyze them in a lazy way, perhaps these ideas are meant to be kept. Some are composed as if from a book I once read, some are just silly. In another moment they are gone leaving no trace. If they are still in my head there is no bread crumb trail back to them. My eyelids flicker open to the unlit room. No daylight. I close them again, willing the carousel to return, for my mind to tumble back to dreams, but it won't. Now the tasks of the day are demanding I think about them, find solutions, get jobs done by day's end. I am awake and there is no retreat. I steal a glance at the pointless alarm clock, glowing red, and reach out to turn off the buzzer. Once 6:30am was a rude awakening, now it is an impossible target. It would take at least a week of vacation to get there...