The mind is always at work. Yet it’s systematic, ordered construct by day becomes a fluid, non restricted nether-monster by night.
Even from the time I was a child, ideas would take hold and haul me out of my sleep, prise me from my bed and force me to write.
The times when I would resist the urge to awake I would emerge from sleep fretted and annoyed hours later at having lost the zeal behind the idea that so consumed my mind earlier.
Be it dream/ thought/ subconscious idea … They careen and carve diabolical routes in my mind craving escape.
Is it that the mind itself never shuts down? How is it that it continues to work creatively to produce even though the rest of you is not even awake to focus on such ruminations.
Maybe the more organized self holds the reins of day. I wonder if the more creative side of myself is allowed to wander more / gain freedom in the few snatched hours of sleep I have at night. It certainly seems so.
All I know is that when the idea escapes unfettered like a dream let loose into the night I cannot resist its insistent call. I am forced to claw my way back to the world and let the thoughts out like a surging flood.