The sheep who couldn't sleep...

Well, another sleepless night. I swear the Sandman has lost my address. I decided to finally write a story of sorts which has been brewing in my mind for quite a long time.

The Sheep Who Couldn't Sleep

Mama Sheep tucked the covers in just right,
And gave Little Sheep a sweet kiss good night.
Little Sheep squirmed to the left, and then to the right
The covers were tucked in just a little too tight.

He threw back the covers and sat up and bleated
He sighed quite loudly and seemed quite defeated.
“It’s time for bed but I’m not sleepy, not one little bit.
Something might happen, and I don’t want to miss it!”

Mama Sheep turned around, and came back to sit down
She reached out to smooth his curls, which were nappy and brown.
“Relax, Little Sheep, I’ll tell you a secret,
But only if you promise me you’ll be sure to keep it.”

Little Sheep nodded his head in agreement
He could keep a secret, of that he was confident.
“When sheep can’t sleep they count, you see
It has worked for your father, your grandmother, and me”.

“What do they count?” asked Little Sheep
She answered "The very same things as people who can’t sleep”.
“Sheep?!” he exclaimed, and he started to laugh
Then he imagined all his sheep friends, one by one, following a path.

Billy was first, very smart and funny
His disposition was friendly, smiley, and sunny

Tucker was next, he was real good at sports
He could play any game and could build the best forts

Tilly was third, she had her rulers and calculator
She was good at science and was a really good baker.

With a big yawn, Little Sheep leaned on the pillow and settled back in
He was getting sleepy and Mama Sheep began to grin.

He continued to count each sheep in the land;
His eyes grew heavy and he began to understand.
Counting sheep was lots of work for such a young lad
But the secret was working and for that he was glad.

Again, Mama Sheep tucked the covers in just right
Because Little Sheep was now sleeping with his eyes shut tight.

Curious night...

Some nights are endless. Some nights are filled with dreams. Last night was one such night. While lying awake, waiting desperately for sleep to come, lucid dreams would wrap around my conscious self, refusing to give my brain peace. When sleep did come, infrequent and briefly, my dreams were full and vivid.

These nights of endless dreams are like traversing some curious landscape painted by Salvador Dali. Dreams turn the impossible into the plausible. They make sense of what seems to be nonsensical, even if only for a moment. We mostly keep our dreams to ourselves as they carry meaning only for us. Some people give no thought to their dreams, but they are wonderful conduits for our irrational and baser side, the side that is censored so heavily when awake. Then, when the night has finally passed, in the light of day, our dreams can be examined like a found treasure.

For those who claim it was ‘only a dream’, they are missing out on an entire world that is theirs for the taking, if only they would ‘listen’. It is a dismissive statement and comes from those who are dreamless.

The words of a childhood song suggest ‘…a dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep..’. Perhaps our dreaming selves deserve more credit for it is during dreams that we can process stuff that is built up in our waking moments. Researchers can tell us much about our brains and what happens when we sleep in great detail. Sleep is crucial for survival. I believe dreams are crucial for our soul, even when they are difficult and disturbing.

Each night, when the light is turned off, I look at the tiny glow-in-the-dark stars painted on my ceiling and breathe a wish for sweet dreams. Sometimes my wish comes true.

Through his pen...

"God writes the Gospel not in the Bible alone, but also on trees, and in the flowers and clouds and stars” ~Martin Luther

Such beautiful words from such a controversial figure. Martin Luther was a man who challenged the Catholic church and paved the way for the Protestant Reformation. Not only did his theology bring about monumental change, he also had some views which I find to be reprehensible.

In spite of the ugly words he has written, he was responsible for translating the Bible into German and this was ultimately influential in terms of the English translation into what is known as the King James version. Through his pen the word of God was made accessible to the common man.

Words can cut and words can heal. I prefer to think of Martin Luther in terms of the latter.