Covid created lots of bad dreams. Still does at times. Strange old virus really. Hopefully the post traumatic symptoms will get fed up and move on sooner than later.

So I wrote a naive poem. Therapeutic you see.

“I often write
In the middle of night
Simply wake?
No!
Fight or Flight!
Then choose the latter.
Then Alight
From uncomfortable journeys
Existing
Only at night.

Dullness to the eyes
Does creep
Eventually into
Deep, steep and yet
Troubled sleep.
Now?
The daytime land no longer exists
Out of reach.
No more walking or talking
The now-finished day’s
Fair speech.

And then?

The same strange time
Brain’s alarm
At 02.39 thankfully, not
Annoyingly, whispers and
Introduces itself
And says
“Peep Peep. Wake up. Don’t weep”.

Past events. Past times
Used to live
Miles from here.
Far, far away
From this slumbering state.
Yet here they come.
With their guns.
Loaded for action
To spray distortion and hate.

They’ve trundled
The miles.
They’ve discussed
Their styles.
They’ve rubbed their hands
In glee.

And say
“Can’t wait.
We’ve traveled.
To visit……
You. Just…..You”.
We Three.
Paranoia, The Joker and Disharmony.

They shift their Moan,
To desperate Groan.
Turn Bone to Stone
With the dark familiar
Yet subtly strange.
So not the same stories.
Rearranged.
And Create
Dreams of nightmarish kind.

Wow! That was dark! Ah well! It’s going to be a nice day. Covid long gone. My ‘you’re now at age 66 years old’ so here is an invitation (from the NHS) to attend for Ultra Sound screening test for Triple A (Abdominal Aortic Aneurism) was performed yesterday. It has shown normality and no problems. So. With a nice straight and uncompromised artery? Full steam ahead.

Can’t sleep? Write. Write anything that comes to mind. Ambient, middle of the night with warm glow light? Very, very therapeutic. Try it sometime.

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