I need to start keeping a note pad beside the bed. I woke up in the wee hours this morning with a great concept for a post. Then, as I usually do, I laid there for a while and composed a good portion of it in my head. I even came up with one or two killer analogies and word pictures. I quickly considered getting out of bed and typing it up but those dreaded words “I’ll never forget this!” floating in a big, bouncy, confident thought bubble over my head. So I drifted off to sleep and next thing you know I’m sitting here with not a clue as to what I was going to create in words. I hate that.
Once, a handful of years ago, I woke in a very similar state. I was living alone after my divorce in an apartment in Midtown. But instead of convincing myself that I wouldn't forget the revelation, I actually got out of bed and padded through my apartment eager to capture the thought in my head. It was the lightless, middle of the night but I was fearless of tripping over anything since, at that time, all I had was a bed, a dresser retrieved from the dumpster and a pair of wooden skis. The skis are another story altogether. I shuffled into my tiled kitchen. The only light was the tiny flicker that came in the window from the lighters of fellas in the alley cooking their heroine. I snagged the pencil from on top of the fridge, zeroed in on the pad I kept on the door to make a grocery list when I ran out of ramen or generic potatoes and scribbled away. Once satisfied that the significant thinking was pinned down, I scurried back to bed and was asleep in five nanoseconds.
It took me a good 30 minutes in the morning to even remember the event. I was in the shower when I finally recalled it and it was a bit like remembering a dream at first. Like driving through fog – familiar but somehow foreign at the same time. When the memory of it finally cleared I was ecstatic. 1) because I was so proud of myself for capturing something that would have, obviously, been lost otherwise and 2) because as the memory formed, the feeling of knowing I had landed on something significant returned. Although I had absolutely NO recollection of WHAT I wrote on that paper, I could remember KNOWING it was something meaningful. It was something grand. I could TOTALLY FEEL the feeling of revelation. Of discovery. I could not wait to get out of that shower. I could not wait to see what was on that paper. Wrapped in a worn towel and without slippers or socks I braved the cold floor and nearly ran to the kitchen and grabbed the paper from the fridge. In tilted, uneven writing it read:
during my divine childhood where were you? brown rice
I guess what I’m saying is, maybe I’m not missing much.