It’s a groggy morning. Disjointed sleep. Fell asleep atop the covers, woke at 2 a.m.—something about 2 a.m. Got up, brushed my teeth, then settled under the cover. Read for an hour and a half. Back to bed at 3:30 a.m. to rise at 7 a.m. I surprisingly awoke before this backup alarm. Feel as though I’m sea sick this morning, riding grueling waves in the night.

Dreams. An odd dream. A little man child that walked penguin like. A room full of unattractive ballerinas, squishy and bulgy—something about them was disturbing, mostly wearing white on white with contorted faces. A few wearing black. Old, young, dark light, tall, short. I couldn’t breathe. I closed the door. I also didn’t really exist, but I could interact. Later, it’s nighttime, but of course time hasn’t really budged because it doesn’t exist either.

So it’s nighttime and this ballet troupe is now in a dark shed like place and the head mistress is securing them in what appears a rickety, wood slated type of prison, and she’s’ shoving in pots and pans being sure to poke at those inside and she’s cussing under her breath.

Enter the little man boy. He is determined to blow them free. He hobbles to a corner with his little cup in hand and dips it into a bucket filled with those explosive nuggets and begins spreading it from one point and continues filling in this imaginary line that he’s drawing toward the shed, apparently he doesn’t exist either because the lady doesn’t see him, but he’s cautious. I see that he keeps making trips, so I go get the bucket—he’s too distracted to notice—and I set it where he’ll need it next. He’s in such a focus that he is confused when he doesn’t see it where he expected. I point to it ad he dips his cup in and continues. He doesn’t’ say much, if anything, in words but it’s clear what he’s aiming to do. I ask, “Will anyone get hurt?” He nods to say no. I have an interest; I’m on his side, but I don’t’ know why or what I’m doing there. I’ve seen enough, and at some point, I wake feeling very fuzzy and I reach for the notebook to get it out of my system, but that feeling is still there, the waves are moving. Please be a good day I say to no one.