In My Head at 2AM
I can’t tell if I had been asleep, or stuck in that between place where thoughts transform into something visual without actually becoming dreams.
I know that I am awake now. The light from the streetlamp brighter than usual, a light inappropriate for the middle of the night.
An artificial dusk.
There is the feeling that dusk provides for singular events. That feeling, while holding all of my attention – drawing from several of my senses – pulls me to memory.
The crow I had seen earlier that day. It landed on an aluminum roof, talons clacking loudly as it walked back and forth, a slow-paced tap dance.
But this sweet scene tangles with something bitter.
I watched through younger eyes, my thoughts drawn to another moment that had occurred, light slips through tree branches and catches on rooftop corners.
I wonder if every moment really happened in half dark, or if, over time, I have placed a shadow filter over my recollections.
Am I pulling from so much because it has become everything wrongly cast?
I lie awake.
Memories move from my mind into my body.
My muscles tense.
It is so much easier to think of everything at once than to think of nothing at all.
A place built upon feelings alone, where new memories never form.