Writing the Dream

Writing the Dream

I’m not much a dreamer while I am sleeping. Although I have been known to dream a lot while I am awake; those are different dreams. If I do dream, they escape my head too quickly to write anything down. I don’t remember them. I work long hours and am usually very tired when I get home. It’s often straight to bed with a good book. Sometimes, I think I must dream about what I am reading because later I can’t find that place in the book. But last week I did remember waking after a dream.

I was in great search for the fastest pen. I searched paper shops all over the city for the perfect pen. I tried many pens but none seemed to be fast enough to capture my thoughts. I saw my hand moving fast, like in those TV scenes where they show time moving quickly, sped up.  I found some of the prettiest pens with purple felt, gold braids and even feathers on them. I wanted to buy a lovely Sherpa pen that would convert my favourite shade of slim green Le Pen into a chunky green and purple polka dot stylo, but it wasn’t fast enough either.   I asked one shopkeeper for some paper to try them out and she kept bringing me brightly coloured leather journals to test the pens. “No, no, no, I need fast paper, too. These wont do.”

Then I woke up with a numb hand.