I hate having dreams that you don't wake up from. I can tell the difference between wakefulness and sleep, don't worry. It's the way I get from one to the other that's the problem. When you wake up from a dream you have a clear dividing line between being in bed and being god knows where. What I find troubling is when the dividing line is stretched and spread out until well after breakfast.

Here is a poem. I might add to it later.

Little Gifts from Above

I keep the eggs of spiders in my hair

They vibrate with happiness

& smell sweetly of stagnant water

I keep them stuck with superglue strings

Like mother's silk

& must sleep standing up

So as not to accidentally

Crush

The eggs of spiders in my hair

& with every hatching clutch

I weep droplets of purple ink for

I know my children will soon crawl down my face

& kiss me goodbye

With the tips of their legs

& then no longer

Will anyone mention how

I am so pretty

With the eggs of spiders in my hair.