Half a Dozen Dreams

I had half a dozen dreams today. Though impressive, I considered it falling short of the eight dreams per night average.

Mere moments before I ungracefully roll out of bed, I decided that I should make a point to remember my dreams before I officially wake up. I counted with my imaginary fingers; there were five. That was astounding, considering that recollecting even just one dream was considered a feat for me these days.

I looked towards the corner of my bedroom where the silhouette of a figure stood. "Isn't that amazing?" I asked Edward the Concrete Man.

Edward is a professional painter that lived in the space between my bed and the wall. He nodded earnestly, and I was awarded with a silly grin that caused his handlebar moustache to shift upwards slightly. Edward was a cheerful man, never failing to lighten up that dark corner in my bedroom where he dwelled out his quiant existence.

Edward was working on his latest project. A project that Edward promises has as much potential as the premier release of the Return of the King. Edward tells me it's going to be a smashing hit, and that it will be known all over the world, and the name of Edward the Concrete Man will ring a melodic soothing tone in the hearts of the public. I can hardly wait.

I shot Edward a smile and waved. Bright rose tinted his cheeks as he dipped his hand into a puddle of garnet and smeared it across the waiting walls.

I gazed in enchantment at Edward the Concrete Man's exploit, his magnum opus.

"It's beautiful..." muttered I, before falling painfully out of bed onto the floor and waking up.


Artwork by TheManWhoFellAsleep