But as soon as I sit before the keyboard again, my mind is blank. It's like waking up from a dream. I can't remember any of the words I constructed while I was away. Every perfect phrase is gone. This always happens to me. I've decided that it must be a rule of the universe that everything is forgotten the moment one has the chance to set it down. The thing actually created can never be as good as the thing dreamed of.
Not cool. Not fair. But nothing ever was. And all this of dreams again too. I seem to be all about dreams. Dreams, dreams, dreams and sleep... sleep I don't get. Dreams of which I have too many... far, far too many