<3

Thank you for being here for me, so I can be here for you.
Enjoy your day and stay creative!
Botty loves you. <3

My wakenings were sore last few days, but still, wakening is something special. Makes you feel alive hihi :))

Have a great day Daniel! Hope you're doing great!

Love the creative snaps! How did you capture te first one?

My alarm came in the middle of a good dream today ;(

Dear @d-pend sir!
Beautiful abstract photography  along with unwelcome original poetry's lines.Have a busy day.😊

The reading of the poem leaves in my mind floating the phrase: "There is no evil that lasts a hundred years nor a body that resists it"... We have to awaken this idea if we want to move forward.

@d-pend,

Wait 'til you're 50.

You'll have no problem crawling out of bed ... because your bladder will feel like it's about to explode. And, prior to waking, what do you think your dreams will be about? Waterfalls are not always a beautiful, nor welcome, metaphor. You sit down to write a poem and the first verb that comes to mind is, *'piss'* ... which is generally unhelpful if the poem is meant to be a client's advertisement.

We'll see what you consider a *"cantankerous malfeasance"* then. :-)

*Quill*

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The states of awakening are an extremely subjective matter @d-pend,

For most people it is a long process that may begin on Monday and continue through Thursday and Friday. 

![](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmXqX68WNFicPtWn4jrReTio94SCxAfkx7QoZa4pYJjuDS/image.png)

From your poem I am reminded of the child who lives in a wonderful dreamy world. If being awakened means leaving that world then you might as well go back to sleep.

I recommend reading Lucy Calkin's book: "Raising lifelong learners." I read it for the first time this week and it really opened my mind into the heart of a young learner.

https://archive.org/details/isbn_9780738200248

I hope everything is going well for you. 

Oh, feel free to ask any question you might have on the way. Sometimes things can get a bit stickly. It's best to read the instruction manual twice and fork out the papers to The Man because until something better comes around we all be workin' for The Man.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=37oJqWp4rJM

Greetings, @d-pend.

This poem made me think about the countless times I've had vivid dreams (the more traumatic, the more vivid) and wake up only to realize that I can't remember the details. I can sense the atmosphere, feel the story that was dreamt but for my life I cannot remember the details.

There was a time I would go to bed with pen and paper near. I decided that I would capture those dreams on paper. The problem was, as Quill suggested, the distractions. One minute in the bathroom could be enough to delete the register.

Well, my dreams at least have a way to remain hidden. For as long as I put pen and paper near, I did not "have" any.

It has happened also that I dream of a story, a poem, an essay and it sounds perfect in my dream. When I wake up, usually in the middle of the night I go turn the laptop (risking my physical integrity for bothering my wife's hypersensitive sleep) in a desperate attempt to write at least an outline of the perfect piece.
It has never worked.

In any case, I sense a tremendous irony in this poem regarding the power of writing. That ink that is supposed to immortalize ideas and dreams is depicted here as the shadow that blurs and distorts, the "atramentous clouds."

I share the idea of wake as imprisonment; the straightjacket of imagination.