The controller for that mask says six hours and forty-five minutes sleep. It was sound, quality type, sleep. The kind that absorbs its dreams and calms its nightmares.
There is no recollection of any dream, but there was a dream-"I have a dream". Quoted, sounds good. The only dreams remembered here are the recurring nightmares. The three aggressive nuns of childhood, in concert with the fathers Three Nuns pipe tobacco "Memory Memories, go thee hence. That was more than half a century ago, now gone.
Old car horn alarm sounds from the mobile phone, disgust and umbrage from the wife, a horrible sound. Better than a marimba, good for chasing Hypnos.and get up, make coffee still wearing the sleeping clothes, in the kitchen under the glaring lights. The little container for the coffee grounds is not empty; it is over filled.
So take it out to the altane balcony, and empty it into the big bucket there. The morning is warm, strange for the middle of December. Back, to the voice and bustle of the wife and the son, make the coffee. The coffee and computer at the table, look, see the news. German politics there, no spectacular occurrences, disasters, or anything else for that matter. Not yet, today. Go for a shower as soon as the son is under way, wash off yesterdays grime and the night's sleep. And get fresh day clothes on, so that the mornings jobs may be done.
The coffee is finished, leave the house. Go to the post office,and hand in yet another package, due to go to Augsburg. Walk on up the hill, past the clothes shops, past the old gaol. and on to the hand therapeutic session.
Arrive early, write the daily blog.
There is no recollection of any dream, but there was a dream-"I have a dream". Quoted, sounds good. The only dreams remembered here are the recurring nightmares. The three aggressive nuns of childhood, in concert with the fathers Three Nuns pipe tobacco "Memory Memories, go thee hence. That was more than half a century ago, now gone.
Old car horn alarm sounds from the mobile phone, disgust and umbrage from the wife, a horrible sound. Better than a marimba, good for chasing Hypnos.and get up, make coffee still wearing the sleeping clothes, in the kitchen under the glaring lights. The little container for the coffee grounds is not empty; it is over filled.
So take it out to the altane balcony, and empty it into the big bucket there. The morning is warm, strange for the middle of December. Back, to the voice and bustle of the wife and the son, make the coffee. The coffee and computer at the table, look, see the news. German politics there, no spectacular occurrences, disasters, or anything else for that matter. Not yet, today. Go for a shower as soon as the son is under way, wash off yesterdays grime and the night's sleep. And get fresh day clothes on, so that the mornings jobs may be done.
The coffee is finished, leave the house. Go to the post office,and hand in yet another package, due to go to Augsburg. Walk on up the hill, past the clothes shops, past the old gaol. and on to the hand therapeutic session.
Arrive early, write the daily blog.
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