the big production

it is quiet now, within, the craziest of my voices still sleeps, it was a hard night of dream making, the one about the forgotten child, must have been heart wrenching, or the wild animals roaming free, just the graphics alone, a big job, but that dream that hangs together with only a thread of emotion, would be a killer, what to keep? what to let drop on the editing floor? it’s hard to be the writer, director, producer, lighting, editor, camera opperator, star actor, actually, if you subscribe to the idea that you are all the actors in your dreams, the one running, the one chasing, the one clothed, the one naked, it’s a wonder our mind gets any rest at night, it is quiet now, I am awake and the dreams are just whiffs of clouds receding from the coast line, but storms are predicted again, when the night falls, and the movie begins

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