Shadows, a Caffeine Induced Tale of the Night

Sitting alone in the dark, awake because sleep has fled, the shadows live. In the corner of your eye, a figure passes the window. Or is the cat on the ledge? What is it that lives in the darkness? Is it a nameless whisper that grabs your ankles when you’re awakened by a dream? Is it a lonely creature that only wants a friend? Is it a hungry swarm that leaves haunted skeletons, endlessly echoing their final words?

No.

Listen, my friend, for I am the nightlight by your bed. I watch over you as you sleep, and the shadows are my children. Without me, there would be no shadows. They do not come to harm, though much they do hide. The velvety cloak of night masks the world to set you free. When blinded we are by hard-edged light, we cannot see potential. We only see what is. The black canvas of the night paints many pictures, both good and bad.

The shadows are the possibilities of the night bleeding into your world of light. Do not think of them as fiends and specters, but mischievous sprites, determined to mislead or enchant, it matters not which. If you take their hands, what dreams you may have! Is that shadow in your eye a monstrous nightmare? Or a fairy tale sneaking you off to magic lands? Who knows!

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Changes

So recently, a friend of mine, from Twirling in the Rain, reminded me that she had a blog, which, in turn, reminded me that I have a blog. It has not yet been a full year since my last post, so I don’t feel too bad. But anyway.

The impetus for this post is a poorly timed coffee, the insomnia brought on as a result, my very nature, and my whirling thoughts.

I’ve said before that I’m an all-or-nothing sort of person. Either my life is completely falling apart or it’s completely put together. Right now it’s on the “completely put together” end of the spectrum, which includes picking up the things I’ve neglected for way too long (i.e., my blog). But in putting my life back together, I feel as if I tried to take off running without realizing that I’ve had my feet tied down—like in a slapstick comedy where the hapless hero or bad guy falls flat on his face.

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An Evening Out

Downtown is, as a rule, less crowded on Monday. And, since it’s summer, the light lingers longer in the evenings. Two explorers have agreed to spend their Monday evenings exploring the workings of downtown. One explorer is decidedly less familiar with the area, but is excited because she has discovered new places to experience. Most notably, a coffee/book shop that’s taken over the ground floor of the old city hall. The architecture is stately, but not ornate. The book shop is on the right and bleeds into the coffee shop on the left, at the back. Old books, not for sale, decorate the walls. The coffee shop offers hard, straight-backed chairs and tables. One explorer discovers that the couches on the left side are free. She missed them because they were occupied on her first visit. One couch is a big, squishy ordeal of fake leather. It smells ever so slightly of mildew. You sink deep into the cushions when you sit on it, and it’s almost like you’re sitting on the floor, only much more comfortable. The other couch is a light colored fabric, tattered in places. Both couches are obviously old, worn, and well-used.

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