Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night. I toss and turn, kick the covers off or cover up to my shoulders, move onto my stomach, back, flip and repeat. Then my brain seems to take over any potential chance of settling back down to where my body is.
Resting body, racing mind.
It's funny what enters my mind during those restless moments. You know the ones, when you feel so awake but in all reality you are really like 75% asleep. In the middle of the night is when I dream about my future. My aspirations, my inner most desires to be successful in the business world. To kick bakery ass.
I lay in bed thinking of what I would name my bakery or the flavors of cupcakes I would stock. How many of each flavor I would bake daily, what my hours would be, what days I would be open. What flavors would be in my rotation, I would have to offer a gluten free cake. Dreaming of concoctions that don't exist, that i've never made. Quirky names or serious names for my cakes? Where I would actually bake, my hair pulled back in a ponytail and my pink New York Yankees cap on, I'm so not the hair net type. Where I would buy ingredients, what websites to order super funky packaging from, and savvy friends I would ask to create my logo. I see the building, the sign, I see me smiling behind the counter of lovingly made treats with a sugar charged smile, but underslept eyes. I see customers stretching out the door and laughter from their eyes in anticipation of the first bite. So many lucid details.
Or then my thoughts move on. Drift into another moment. Quite truthfully, I think about blogging in those wee hours on the edge of reality. Is it really 3:33 am? Nah, can't be. And boy do those mental posts have StumbleUpon written all over them, StatCounter through the roof, and Blogger servers crashed. I could write a post over and over in my head, dancing with words and the opening sentence across the dance floor of my mind. And of course, simultaneously convince myself I WILL remember it in the morning. I don't need to dig out a pen, flashlight, and paper. Nah, I've got it. Locked and sealed. Reality is, I rarely remember.
Some folks sleepwalk or sleep eat, but not me. I'm a sleep writer, a sleep entrepreneur crushing Donald Trump one sleepless night at a time. Maybe if I could only put my restless will into my daytime consciousness, my life would be complete.