Mint Condition

I’ve been thinking about how it all works. About how our bodies carry us through the night in one piece like a rusted-out boat with just enough life in her to fjord a river through a storm. The way our tired eyes close like fraying curtains, shutting the darkness out while knowingly risking some light may be stifled, too.

I’ve been thinking about how dreams come. Are they random or are they hand-delivered and earmarked for us? I’ve been thinking about where dreams go when they’re gone. I recall Jimi Hendrix’s belief that all music is connected and comes from the same place. Are dreams the same way? Is there one infinite train of thoughts and images and memories from which our subconsciousness borrows pieces before returning with the most careful of hands like a library book: consumed, absorbed and gifted back to the universe in mint condition?

Photo by Braden Tavelli on Unsplash