With a sleep...

I’m not sure that contentment is good for me. Sometimes I am so content I feel asleep, sometimes I actually fall asleep. Other times it feels like my life is a dream and I am just dreaming it away.

Who knows, perhaps I am, as Shakespeare so eloquently wrote (well almost), such stuff. As dreams are made on; and my little life. Is rounded with a sleep.

I've been dreaming the past a lot recently, I thought I was over it but it's back. Perhaps it’s time to reinvent myself again, maybe that’s what I need to make me awake. These days I'm not scared to completely fail, it allows me to try things that I have no experience of and find out if I like them. Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t, but at least I don’t have to worry how it looks on my CV. Anyway, I really don’t have an active CV, I have no need of one; and what does it matter what others think of me?

What could I be? Should I be Prospero drowning his books? I could be. Sometimes I feel like an exile living on a remote island singing madly away to myself - merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. And if I’m dreaming, then maybe the people around me are the ‘stuff’ that dreams are ‘made on’, just two dimensional characters, players that plays are built from. Maybe my life is a play playing in somebody else’s mind, my little life just a brief dream in something else’s sleep. And what if they awake? Will I cease to exist or move on into a truer dream – one of my own?

And will I dream about them? After all, they will be my past.

Yes, I need a truer dream. I’m not ready to wake up yet... Or to fall asleep.