Orson Welles Pulled My Heart Out!!!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “To Sleep, Perchance to Dream.”

Sleep is one-third of our lives: write a post about it. Do you love naps? Have trouble falling alseep? Wish you could remember your dreams? Remember something especially vivid? Snuggle under a blanket, or throw the windows wide open? Meditate on sleep.

Ah sleep and dreams. I never really used to have any trouble sleeping, in fact for a large course of my life I could probably have slept through a war I was such a heavy sleeper. Presently I wouldn’t say I have trouble falling asleep, in fact pretty much as soon as I put my had on the pillow I’m off to the land of Nod. The problem which I am developing at the moment is that I tend to wake up about three hours later can’t always drift back off to sleep, which can be a problem especially on a work day. Luckily, in my profession I work a number of split shifts so I am beginning to cultivate the art of the cat nap, which usually involves me nodding off during a rerun of Cheers.

Dreams, I don’t always remember them properly. Normally they are like shadows or echoes in my memories; hints and snippets of other worlds. Often my dreams are sort of like reality but not quite right, something off key. Mary has being haunting my dreams a lot of late as has Andrea. I have vague memories of a dream of being back in her company and her very much saying “I wish I could stay but its just a dream.”

One dream does stick in my head though: I was about 20 at the time and I have a very vivid dream I was incapacitated on a stone table surrounded by a large number of friends and loved ones all watching with intent. Out of the crowd comes Orson Welles, yes the film director, who mutters “I know what it is”. He then produced a knife and cut an incision in my chest and pulled my heart and showed it to the crowd before… well I woke up.

Any dream detectives wish to analyse that one?

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