A Place in the Dark

2024.06.23

Good morning, and the way is still a great way to keep it going.

A quick thunderstorm for sunrise.

That's the way to start.

Something quiet flashy and new.

If there's any negative to dreamwork, it's the lack of touch.

It's difficult to feel a sense of accomplishment when the results aren't instant.

But they do come.

They do arrive.

They do show up in many different ways.

If variety is the spice of life, someone pass the habanero sauce.

Here we are with Abe the dog watching the slow down drops of rain as the sunrise tries to convince us it's strong, through the diminished, almost finished, drops of rain.

And this writer thinking on words written, and the arrangement of parts, so he can start putting the Legos where they go.

I'm writing on the placement of parts.

The arrangement of tones to make a compilation of pieces so well pieced together years ago.

I'm being practical.

Which, for me, has been a pie in the sky dream for so long.

Keep your feet on the ground so long as your head is in the sky, and you'll be all right.

If you're afraid to dream, take the day off go somewhere to be alone and dream.

The dream comes first.

Always.

Always the dream comes first.

Even if it's a heartbeat ahead of the actuality, the dream always comes first.

And the dream means words.

We must let there be light before we can flip on the switch.

There's got to be something to turn on before it can be turned on.

There's got to be a place in the dark before we can fill it up.

So, I go around filling dark cutout dreams full of what light I hold.

Good thing I dreamed up a storehouse of light to match the cutout pieces of dark.

I finally found peace by making a place for it, and so the only thing left to do is to light it up.

If you're reading this, the light is finally bright enough to show itself.

S.J. Wynn
+he Ghos+