Look you, he's in here.

Last night I woke up from an intense dream.
I have those often.
I laid there with my heart racing at 3:43am wondering just how badly I'd regret not getting out of bed that very second to capture everything my subconscious just threw at me.
I grabbed the journal next to my bed (always next to my bed) and wrote just about every detail I could manage while half-asleep by the light of my cell phone.
Then I laid back down.
But my heart was still racing. I wanted to open my laptop and spill it all out here.
I wanted to wake myself up and have a proper "What the fuck IS all this" session. Really get it out on paper.
I should have.
It would have been beautiful. Those are the moments the real truth comes out.
-When you're too tired to come up with bullshit?
Yeah maybe that's it.
Inspired moments. Honest moments.

But anyway... keeping the story-line to myself but sharing the bottom-line with you.

All I could think as I closed my eyes, surrendering the idea of opening my computer and blogging at that hour was: "my brain just told me, 'look sarah. he's in here. he's not leaving. you have to figure it out. you have to ask him to.'"

I woke up before I asked him to... or didn't ask him to, probably. In the dream I turned a corner slowly (symbolism), looked at him sitting there (symbolism), wished he would get up and leave (symbolism) but thought, 'he's not leaving. Ok.' It was someone. Someone was there rather than no one.

Not ok.

I'm asking him to.