That Place Between Sleep and Awake: That Place Where You Remember Dreaming

Between Sleeps

  • two who couldn’t grow together

    “They’re called crepuscular rays,” he told me when the tide was low and the rocks slippery and the seaweed still shiny.  It would be romantic if it were anyone else.  The bay was beautifully blown glass reflecting the painted sky and bending ever so slightly with the breeze, the kind of water they tell you…

  • sunbeams and a shitshow

    I haven’t written much recently and I think it’s because I am grade-A ~stressed~.  Don’t tell Chris that I have not a single page of the new chapter for my thesis and I still haven’t submitted my grad school applications.  I fell asleep on the couch last night in protest of the work I intended…

  • impermanence

    Fall down on your knees Hear the whisper through the trees No one’s come to save you. I’ve only ever cried to one song, and it was only once.  I think I was twelve, definitely not older, but probably younger.  It wasn’t the first time I’d heard it, but perhaps the first time I’d actually…

  • Not a Writer.

    I’ve never considered myself a writer.  I have always relied on outside validation to indicate such.  A professor suggested a creative writing course after I turned in a final paper in which I could not bear to write another literary analysis of some books I hadn’t really read that closely turned out to be a…