It's Saturday night.
The clock reads one twenty one.
Normally I would be in bed under the covers, but tonight was football night awaiting the snow.
The snow didn’t mount too much, but the football was great.
Drift into music and the thought of sleep.
While working, I must wake at a certain time to gather my thoughts and dress and eat and venture out into the world to produce for an organization that paid me to produce a product.
Now, I am on my own time.
The same 24 hours a day. The same 7 days a week.
Dreams are the first to change.
First there were frantic searching through vacant old buildings for something unknown with characters from an office but vague in message.
Then the dreams faded, but the sleep patterns became consistent.
Tire early, around 10pm, and off to bed. A quick and easy exhausted sleep overcame me until around 2am. A walk down the hall through the dark yet familiar passage and back to the warmth of several covers and a woven neck cuddlier put me back to sleep.
At the break of dawn, I awake. Every morning is the same, no matter if I go to bed at 9pm or 6am. It is a strange occurrence. I must wake up with the sun.
So it is 1:38am and I am listening to a recording of a bunch of geezers that make me smile in a chilling room.
It is time to wander down the hall, turn off the lights and climb under the sheet, cover, quilt, and wool blanket. For it will be chilly tonight preparing me for the winter dreams.