“Simply begin,” the voice says. “Simply begin.”
Startled awake at 6 a.m. by these words, I dreamily question my ability to do this at the same time I laugh out loud. Before falling asleep last night I had asked my dreams to show me how to start writing my book. Obviously, I have to deal with the blank page.
I WILL do that but first I’ll honor my habitual early morning ritual - make my delicious cup of freshly ground organic shade grown coffee filtered into an already pre-heated cup and add lots of Half and Half. Picking up a banana and making a slice of toast lathered with homemade raspberry jam, I head back to bed with goodies in hand and curl up in the still warm cocoon nestled between two canine companions and one feline.
I am ready to read for awhile.
THEN I’ll start writing.
Arriving Home
I DO know this is a dangerous practice - more than once this ploy has helped me avoid the blank page but this day feels different. Around 7:15 AM, sleep creeps up and knowing that early morning dream time is often vivid, I slip into slumber.
I’m in another place and time experiencing myself as a baby being born. I emerge from the uterine confines of warmth and darkness into a softly lit, sunshadowed world filled with warm hands tenderly holding, my ears swooning with the oooohs and ahhhhhs of enchanted human endearment accompanied by a symphony of meadow larks larking, chickadees twittering, bees buzzing, ravens warbling, snakes slithering, flames crackling, waters burbling, winds shooshing and caressing, grass blades blading, seeds popping, stalks stretching, leaves unfurling, buds blossoming, flowers perfuming, cats purring, beetles clicking, ants trailing, mice chittering, dogs gamboling, mouth suckling, warmth guzzling, breath revealing, sweat informing, melted butter hands stroking my nakedness cradled in warm sensory surround.
“I have come home!”