Puck’s dream of fireflies…

Well it is Jubilee, so it would be tardy not to drink her health - besides it might be treason. So that’s what I did last night and well, let’s just say I hope she is extremely healthy.

When I awoke this morning, clear-headed and in fine spirits I found this on my computer – open, unsaved, and unremembered as things are sometimes and maybe written in my sleep, who knows? Anyway, either awake or asleep I was unlocked, and this tumbled out like a half remembered dream. Maybe it isn't my dream at all, maybe it's Pucks…

Press Ctrl – Alt - Del to unlock this computer.

But it isn’t that or the too many fireflies that fly at my face trying to blind me with their tiny lights that so uncertain me; tiny lights that, in their futility, are both insignificant and powerful as they buzz and whisper the secrets of a song, so long forgotten, to each other - but not to me, and of course – I’ve never seen them in reality. Have I?

Did I not once see them from up on my hill, tiny pinpricks of light flashing and shimmering as far as I could see?

Yes, this is the stuff of waking dreams, the stuff made real by dark beer and rich Madeira wine and longings of a time I thought that I once knew but realise now - I never did. Longings for the warmth of a breath and a well-shared joke and maybe a kiss before I tumble down into uneasy sleep with a spell - hoping to never quite wake again, and if I do that it may be with a kiss and a joke and a glass of wine (and most of all that glass of wine).

Bliss. Ha- ha.

What’s wrong? Well nothing. But these fireflies are such an inconvenience as they buzz around and into my line of vision, trying so hard to get into my consciousness the way that some things do. If only I could find a waterfall and sleep.

Bliss. Kiss.

Well now fine Puck, tomorrow is another day - perhaps one that I might find better words to say - and if not? Well, the fireflies can’t harm me…

Can they?