Had a dream the other night, where my alarm went off. I got up. I walked around the apartment trying to get the lights to turn on. None of them turned on. I walked into the closet, wondering if the lightbulbs needed changing, or maybe the electricity was out. I walked around the apartment trying to turn on the lights. It was darker than dark in there, like I could see enough to move around but I knew it was illusory, unformed.
I noticed the 12:00 flashing on an alarm clock I long ago retired from service. It was plugged, and working, and... completely out of place on the desk where my computer goes.
Logically, I deduced this was a dream. I figured the best thing to do was go back to bed, then, and hide under the covers and wait it out. I was exhausted, after all.
I am, still, exhausted, come to mention it.
But, edits continue. Closer than ever. A book takes shape out of the clay of a manuscript, and I think people will like it.
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