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Monday, November 15, 2004

Whatever that idea was that came to me in the middle of the night, itís gone. It seemed so vivid, and I felt so lucid, that I was sure I would remember it. This one time, I would remember the idea that would change my life. If thatís what it was.

I was convinced it wasnít a dream. I didnít even consider the possibility, as I lay there on the couch letting this idea set like concrete. First of all, had it been a dream I wouldnít have remembered it, and it was clear and detailed. Whatever it was. Besides, I was fully conscious and alert, without the whisper of sleep fogging my brain. So even if Iíd considered the possibility, I would have dismissed it out of hand. Definitely not a dream.

Since it wasnít a dream, I didnít have to write it down. Dreams I forget, but big ideas — big, life-altering ideas like this — didnít have to be recorded because obviously they werenít that ephemeral. Not like dreams, anyway. And it was the middle of the night, so I couldnít have written it down without turning on lights and finding paper and pencil.

One thing Iím absolutely certain of is that it was the middle of the night. I know this because I looked at the clock and fixed the time in my mind. Thatís what I thought at the time, and I remember thinking it at the time. I just donít remember the time itself. It could have been 1:something or 2:something or 3:something. Donít ask me, because I couldnít tell you.

Whatever time it was, I got up off the couch, went to bed, and slept soundly the rest of the night. I think I woke up one time with half the idea still in my head. I was satisfied that I would remember the rest of it in the morning.

Honestly, though, I donít know for sure that it was an idea of the life-altering variety. It might have been. It might have been the thing that would get me out of whatever rut Iím in, or it might have been the thing that would make the world a better place. It could have been the solution to a problem I didnít know Iíd been wrestling with.

Or it might just have been a brilliant theme for a journal entry. I havenít a clue. Now. I did then, I knew exactly what impact the idea would have. In the cold light of day, not so much.




11 November 2004

Partly cloudy sky.



It wasnít this, I can tell you that. It wasnít the idea that I could write about something that came to me in the middle of the night and then vanished as if it were a dream. In fact, it probably was nothing more than a dream. But if youíd asked me at the time, I would have told you it wasnít that. Most assuredly not a dream.




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Stuff

You know what it might have been? It might have been the lingering after-effects of the cold medicine I took late last night. It changed the way I slept, that much I know for sure. Whether it put ideas in my head, I couldnít say, but it seemed to have achieved the purpose for which it was intended. The cold symptoms I felt yesterday were gone today.

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One year ago: Rough Seas
"It moves in a way that suggests it's a living thing — which in a way I suppose it is. You can see it breathe heavily, as if exerting its mighty power is taking everything it has to give."

Four years ago: Birds of Prey
"Every argument they've given has been a self-serving attempt to preserve the narrow margin they're clinging to, and prevent the counting of any votes that might threaten that lead."


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