In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Mr. Sandman.”
Mr. Sandman is supposed to come at night. But there are those called Night Owls and those who dream during the sunlight.
I don’t think Mr. Sandman comes only at night but works ceaselessly to make me feel everything’s alright. He comes to me like a ghost, escorts me wherever I go and he strikes in the moment when I’m the most undefended. Whispers to my ears drifting his words to my brain. I am daydreaming. Sometimes about myself or someone who is not me but kind of alike, and I don’t know if this is what I like.
Sometimes, Mr. Sandman sings or plays music that makes my brain work harder and sets it fuzzy. He sends me images, movements, drawings too bad I am not good at any kind of drawing. My hands shaking my ears ringing, I want to make a story that is kind for all of my senses. I am working, working and then comes the night, I can’t fall asleep because Mr. Sandman disappeared with the light. Probably he went on seeing someone else, fulfilling his every-night duty.
Left me alone thinking wildly, just like now with this post, which after I finish, makes me full of worry.