a dearth of dreams

It’s come to me attention recently that it’s been ages since I’ve written so much as a sentence about a dream I’ve recalled on waking. I have, in the past week or two, actually had some wisps of imagery on a few mornings, but it seems that my recollection skills have waned in direct proportion with my not recording anything. Which proves, to me, that it is a muscle which can be strengthened with regular use. But winter is always when it returns- or at least, the busy-ness of summer tends to put it rather low on the priorities list.

I miss it, though– and whenever I have a morning in which I am *this close* to writing something– only to have emails, work, and ‘real life’ obliterate the possibility– well, it feels a bit of a loss. Then again, considering I’ve not managed to parley all the many I have managed to catch in jars into anything of substance, I can’t be too bothered– can I?

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