somnambulance dispatch, vol. two-hundred twenty-two

Last night I slept for almost 11 hours, albeit with frequent interruption. At one point, I’m not sure when, the baby fussed. At 5 in the morning, we woke up to a rattling at the bathroom window. Jenny got up to check it out and saw a cardinal had become trapped in the bamboo. Eventually it flapped its way free, but by that point we were both awake. Jenny told me a new baby name idea. I told her the exact coordinates of my dream at the moment I’d been woken up by the bird. We were all sitting around a table, I think at Harry’s in Westport, and I was beatboxing the 8-bit underworld theme music from Super Mario Bros 3. In my dream I was impressed with my abilities, and I’m pretty sure those around me were, too. But in the non-light of day it all seemed a little ridiculous. We went back to bed for a bit, and before it was light I heard the three owls. They’ve been hanging around our backyards for weeks now. When one hoots, the others follow, and a circular dialogue ensues that’s soothing to lie and listen to. Still only half-awake this morning, I imagined they were the Strigiformation of past, future and present. Wise, but not judgmental. Only attentive, soft, poetic.

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