Slow motion flashes

There are little scenes that play in my mind when half-awake. Sort of like a dream half assembled. I can sit at my desk, still partially in uniform, back from a late night at work and coax sleep from a few minutes from now to right away just by closing my eyes.

The spurts of sleep only last a few seconds, enough for my head to nod forward and back, but the scenes are there. Streets, colors, people, juxtaposed in ways only dreaming can rationally explain. It’s weird to skirt the edge of sleep like that. Anybody else ever see those sorts of scenes?

I lost my fire tonight. I was supposed to stay late to edit a big story for el colonel, but was called away to cover a story in a nearby town that kept me up into the late evening. By the time I made it back, I was beat. The colonel would have to wait.

Not the wisest choice, I know; but sitting here, with the time nearly tomorrow, I’m hardly concerned, content with watching my private avant-garde theater as I nod off.

Flamenco woman under water, reaching toward the left; streetcars, clouds, the idea of smelling pumpernickel without actually smelling pumpernickel; a mustached man clearing off a messy desk.

Mmmmm, interesting. I think all of it means everything tomorrow will be fine, and I’ll keep my rank even without the colonel’s corrected story. I’ll head to bed now to find out if I’m right.

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