Washed Out

I woke up this morning to what seemed like a washed out day.  I wasn’t sure if it was cause of the sleep in my eyes or if I were still dreaming.  And my dreams are pretty monochromatic so it could’ve easily been a dream.  My dreams are mine and if I catch you in them, I will kindly have to ask you to leave.

But it wasn’t a dream, possibly a cloud or a change in barometric pressure.  Whatever it was I forgot that I was home and my room didn’t look like mine so I’m pretty sure that’s why I thought it was a dream.  Initially I thought I could get away with ignoring the day, that it wasn’t coming down on me like a normal Monday, but my cat reminded me that it was time to move forward with the realization that it was time to play grown-up.

That washed out haze has sort of accompanied the rest of my day.  I had a movie on in the background as I sifted and organized mementos and sheet music that carried that same effect in the film making which probably didn’t help being able to shake it.  And even now as I sit in one of my best friends’ kitchen I’m still aware of a lingering dream, a quiet reverie, the ring in my ears from the show last night that doesn’t feel tangible.  And this surrounds my day and I feel light as a feather.