Ramble.

My dreams are always dark. That is not to say that they are always frightening, but certainly, there is often an absence of light.

Too often, I dream of well-lit rooms that I am unable to see...someone has sewed my eyelids together.

Heathergirl once asked me what I would wish to know, if I was able to know anything. I replied with 'the lottery numbers'. But when all is said and done, I would dearly love to know what it is that I want from this world.

I firmly believe that these dreams are the key. The room that I stand in with such familiarity is, in fact, filled with answers - with objects and images and memories that piece together the puzzle of my deepest and most foreign desires. Sometimes I catch a glimpse - a flash of colour here or there. But nothing solid.

It is terrible to burn with such curiosity, and to be denied so relentlessly. I never can open my eyes wider than a slit. Perhaps one day.

I love the eve, but the dark often scares me. Not in the traditional way, you understand - I care not for those who dwell in shadows. I find it easer to think after a certain hour. I attribute this to growing up with a stringent bedtime - while my parents were indeed able to abscond with my flashlight and books (and at one stage, they took every book from my room), once the lights were out, and my eyes were closed, they could do nothing to stop me from thinking.

So late at night, and often early into the morning, I lay awake, the moon shining through my venetians, thinking things that have no doubt been thought a thousand times over, at some time or other. But of course, one doesn't think about that.

It isn't actually the dark that frightens me. We are companions to one another; a warm pair of arms to be held by as the rest of the world sleeps. My thoughts. It is my thoughts that sometimes frighten me - they are amplified in solitary. Why am I here? What is in store for me? Who am I? These are lonely questions at the best of times.

I wouldn't say that I love the light...for it is harsh on the muse. But, if only for a moment, I do love the morning. Nothing ever seems quite so terrible in the morning.

I can forget. I can simplify. I can open my eyes.