Born a dreaming fantast; a child insomniac.

As a child sleep wouldn't come to me my covers, or anywhere near my small fragile presence The silence would become a music like I've never known beckoning a new dream soul to enter fantasy awake and in control Some would say that ghosts stopped by usually around 4 am To me they were as people, but their bodies were concrete & amorphous They spoke in silence without words, without any motion made on earth with thought so pure they were fluent pictures which I understood somehow, in an alien sort of way. I'd see lives played out like movies, but multiplexed which I grasped by the thousands, but it was too much for memory to flag & then store. Having grown, I know now that such experiences are largely considered mystic yet nirvana or universal understanding was never the point or reason for these waking dreams They offered more in purity, in soul with youthful innocence unmolested and newly created People tell me that these trances are something I should understand But comprehension is clouded- back then at the time it was not needed, nor had it a use worth utilizing Most don't believe me or my stories, and honestly I never expected them to; what occurred is entirely incommunicable Yet it doesn't hurt to try; everyone must play & be engaged in their own individual game in life I'm still not sure what my game is I don't think I'm supposed to know Its better that way... Its exciting that way.