The Art of Wasting Time
One must begin with a dream. For example, last night I dreamt that I was in my dream, but to get the dream to move on to the next sequence, I had to "climb" out of it, settle in front of my laptop, and press "Next" to move on. I was able to then rejoin my dream and continue for some time before having to climb out again.
I remember no details of the dream, other than having to climb out, hit "next," and climb back in again.
Frankly, it was exhausting, all that climbing and nexting, and consumed much of my morning as I tried to recall the actual content within the dream. By late morning, I had accomplished nothing other than tiring myself over the whole business, so that it was time to take a small nap.
Being gifted in the art of napping is also a wonderful tool. My Nap Dream was that I was napping. Particularly pressing was the fact that the dream seemed to be urging me to wake up. So, I suppose after dreaming about waking up, that it was best that I did, in fact, wake up.
Upon waking I found it so intriguing that I had dreamed of waking that it was well after three in the afternoon before I could get myself to think on anything else.
I decided to sit down and do some writing, but the moment that I came face to face with my laptop, I recalled the nasty dream of the night and was overcome with searching for its content again.
It's late evening, now -- and as I consider the luxury of dragging my exhausted body to bed -- I cannot help but wonder if there wasn't something to the Nap Dream as well.
I plan to think on it some more. I'd hate to have wasted an entire day.
I remember no details of the dream, other than having to climb out, hit "next," and climb back in again.
Frankly, it was exhausting, all that climbing and nexting, and consumed much of my morning as I tried to recall the actual content within the dream. By late morning, I had accomplished nothing other than tiring myself over the whole business, so that it was time to take a small nap.
Being gifted in the art of napping is also a wonderful tool. My Nap Dream was that I was napping. Particularly pressing was the fact that the dream seemed to be urging me to wake up. So, I suppose after dreaming about waking up, that it was best that I did, in fact, wake up.
Upon waking I found it so intriguing that I had dreamed of waking that it was well after three in the afternoon before I could get myself to think on anything else.
I decided to sit down and do some writing, but the moment that I came face to face with my laptop, I recalled the nasty dream of the night and was overcome with searching for its content again.
It's late evening, now -- and as I consider the luxury of dragging my exhausted body to bed -- I cannot help but wonder if there wasn't something to the Nap Dream as well.
I plan to think on it some more. I'd hate to have wasted an entire day.
posted by Brenda Cowley at 7:17 PM
2 Comments:
the art of wasting time may have been perfected by a youg woman who spent hours in search of pb crunchers ... rather than study for an american lit final ....
Boris?
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