Sometimes, it seems, I am just not meant to have a good night’s sleep. It could have been the fact that I got home late for tea, tired, and had a large glass of wine and shoved a frozen pizza in the oven (which I overcooked) and then ate nothing healthy alongside it, or maybe there was another reason.
Whatever it was, I had a rotten night and ended up getting a cuppa at 3 a.m. and sitting up and reading poems from a new anthology I’ve been given. That was good. The trouble was that underneath each poem there are biographical notes about the poets and several that I read said that the poets had not been loved by their parents in their childhood. I then lay awake thinking about all kinds of things – death being one of them, my dear lost friend being another – and then when I finally slept I dreamed that some woman my age was casting out Lux and saying “I can’t look after this child, she is too much trouble” and I scooped Lux up in my arms and said “I will look after you! I will love you and love you and love you!” and I woke up crying.
I got back to sleep eventually but then woke up crying about someone else.
I feel like a wreck. Thank goodness I can sit at my desk this morning and work on my screenplay. Sometimes I think writing is for people with control issues….in fiction you can make things turn out exactly the way you want.
There is a garden where our hearts converse,
At ease beside clear water, dreaming
A whole and perfect future for yourself,
Myself, our children and our friends.
(from The Promised Garden by Theo Dorgan)