Memories of red tile

I woke up this morning in between realities. I go through dream cycles in the month and I'm on the vivid-dream cycle now. I went back to a bathroom with red painted tile, on the third floor of an apartment building I left long ago. I woke up in between realities. The sound of the cool breeze on the other side of the window reminded me of that third floor, but I the wind was trapped on the outside. Trapped on the outside, looking in, to a confused heart.

The thunderstorm of last night woke up all the birds. They were chanting this morning, celebrating clarity. Celebrated clarity while my mind and heart were fuzzy, jumping between dreams, between realities.

I had things to write. About cold road trips around the Ozarks, about photos of new friends, about the colors of an imaginary palette. But I forgot the words I wanted to use and the tales lost importance, after I visited a familiar room (with red painted tile) in my dreams.