Calling Sunday Morning

I’m at home, in Toronto, sort of in my room trying to sleep. There are various vague events happening around, the most peculiar of which is an old friend driving a large black truck that was flooded – literally – as water was gushing out of it in odd ways. There are people making noises but the one that reiterates and is most salient is that of the phone chirping to indicate it is low on batteries. I try to ignore it but it keeps happening. I start to wonder why my mother hasn’t just put the darn phone back on the charger because I’m tired and want to sleep. Half-asleep the phone keeps chirping preventing a deeper sleep.

Wait! That is my phone, in Ottawa… I’m actually half-asleep dreaming about being half-sleep!

I rarely remember the dreams I have (of which I think there are few), but it was fascinating to see how an external event could influence the inner ‘narrative’ in my dream. Brains are amazing things, aren’t they?