“History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.” James Joyce

[A bit of an explanation: Rebecca’s workshop challenge today was to think about the James Joyce quote for a few seconds, set a timer for 3 minutes and then just write whatever came, for those three minutes.]

But it is not even 6:00 and I am trying to not awake.
I am goddamn angry that I am awake.
Sleep is a dream from which I am trying not to awake.
But with sleep come the dreams that I do not want.
Nightmares would be a relief.
These are daywolves that tear apart my contentment.
And they have the faces of my children.
I would love to love my children with the pure and simple joy with which I loved my young children.
Why the hell do my grown children have to be so difficult, so complicated, so not me?
Forgiveness is a dream for which I am trying to awake.
Enough. Not quite three minutes, but enough.
Back to sleep, perchance to dream.