November 17, 2014

November 17, 2014

Written by Maximus Peperkamp, M.S. Verbal Behaviorist

Dear Reader, 

 

This writer woke up from a dream which was sweet and beautiful. He was floating in the air with his wife and they were kind of swimming in the air along many flowers which smelled very good. 

It is in the middle of the night and he will go to bed to sleep some more. Although he is typing these words he still feels as if the dream is with him and he enjoys his ability to write about this.

All of a sudden he finds himself writing in paragraphs of only two lines. There is something pleasing about that. It is more digestible. It creates a particular structure, rhythm and flow.

He is unsure of what he is going to write because he wants to go back to bed again. He stays up to fill this page with words. The words do not come out randomly, but in a way they make sense. 

He reads what he writes and his reading directs his writing. He waits for something to write about and things always come. It is so nice that he can arrange his words in the way that he likes.

It is worth to be up at night for something so delightful. He will go back to his bed and is slowly, but surely filling up the page with words. A sense of certainty and security is felt. 

What else can he write about at this late hour? The question is like a stone that is thrown into a pond. However, the pond was suddenly shrinking and he missed it and the stone landed on the land.

His sleep is catching up with him and he thinks of himself as that stone laying next to the pond. The night is embracing him and making him invisible. He is calm and cool and waiting. 

The pond is happy that this time no stone was thrown into him and he thanks the stone. The pond is still awake, but the stone has fallen asleep already. The pond smiles and the moon shines.

It is such a still night. Nothing happens and the peace keeps on going. The stone is not going anywhere and is having another dream. He dreams about the mountains and his family of rocks. 

There is this peak, which can be reached only by air. Something suddenly takes him there and he feels so at home. The tears he cries, become a river that runs down the mountain.