The alarm buzzed. The white paint on the metal frame of the bed had begun peeling away. I laid in bed picking at it and thinking about the dream I had last night. It was time to get out of bed. The sheets looked a duller white than usual and my quilt had lost its fluff. I thought to myself does it have to be just one wrong side or can it be that the entire bed seems wrong on some mornings. Bracing my self for the misadventures the day I walked right past the oval mirror without as much as sneaking a peek to my wardrobe. Rolled up my night pyjamas into a ball and dropped them down the laundry chute.


The computer had started giving me instructions for my morning exercises. I was still lost in the recollections of the dream, mindlessly picking at the lint on my pants and it was too late when I realised that I had missed the pre-workout affirmation for the day. To be honest, this was the best part of the daily exercise hour. Now the drill begins. First the cat cows and then the energy flow. The monochrome hues are still stuck on black, white and grey. It is hard to catch the range of frequency needed to get in tune with the “Prana”, miss computer.


The warm water did nothing to wash away the residue of last night’s misadventures. Why do the dreams have to be so busy? I asked myself again. The philosophical internal monologue was beginning. I could hear the computer whirring a little harder trying to record all the thoughts crossing my mind right now. It loved these mental waves.

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Also read Dream Journal Book 1: Monochrome Story 1 Excerpt