When Inspiration Calls
6:25am. Bangkok, Thailand.
She’s done it again.
She’s visited me in my dreams and pulled me from a deep sleep.
She’s pulled me from the pillow that I laid my head down on just two hours ago after traveling 25 hours halfway around the world.
I try to deny her, but she keeps nudging me just as I am about to go back to sleep. Like a lion whose cubs keep nipping at his ears as he tries to fall asleep on the savannah, she won’t let me be.
I try to ignore her and roll over on my side clutching onto a pillow, but she’s relentless. She won’t let me go back to sleep. She wants to be unleashed onto the world.
So I get out of bed with her.
And I post up in the living room with my aluminum cased weapon of choice and let her have her way with me.
Words flow effortlessly onto the page. Ideas that I’ve been holding onto for weeks somehow find their way out into reality. Eyes are half asleep still.
I like doing it in the morning. It’s like one foot is still in the dream world and one foot is in the material world. These words don’t even feel like mine when I look back at them.
Sometimes she comes to me after a good night’s rest. Sometimes it’s after a long trip. Sometimes it’s when I’m in the shower.
But every time I heed the call.
I don’t know when she will come around again. She’s funny like that. Always popping up when I least expect her to. She’s a handful.
I handle her advances well. Evernote, my journal, voice memos on my phone.
But sometimes she just wants me to drop everything for her and make love to her.
And so I do.