About-to-Be

I'm tired, despite crashing after the Percocet and sleeping for 12 hours.
Sleep was fitful, nightmares in bursts, periods of wide-awakeness where I'd come to, convinced I wasn't breathing, calming down, and then drinking another glass of wine to put myself under again.

... I had a dream that I was urgently whispering something into A's ear, something he needed to know, but in my dream I was speaking Spanish (???) so I have no idea what I said.


Ah, well... it's not worth dwelling on.

I woke up on time, showered, dressed, drank too much coffee and wanted more.
Ate a bunch of grapes out of the palm of my hand while I stared out of the window at the cloudy sky, wondering if there was rain in the forecast.

A dreary day has the oddest pervasion, like... like it never really progressed past dawn.

A feeling of about-to-be, a blank slate, a day full of possibility, waiting to strike.


I packed everything but the heavy stuff: dresser, mini-fridge, big-ass box of books, area rug I think may work out well with the lime-green walls, and put my sunglasses in my car, just in case.
Because you never know when dawn might break, on a day like today.


My eyes are sore and itchy from last night's crying, but they're fixed on the horizon, hoping.
So that's good.