Perchance to dream

I'm not a person to have difficulty in sleeping. That's not to say that I'm asleep as soon as my head touches the pillow, but insomnia is not a problem with which I am familiar. Despite this, there have been a few occasions recently when either it has taken my longer than usual to fall asleep or I have woken in the early hours and felt little need for further sleep for an hour or so. When this happen I try to lie still and avoid tossing around to that I don't wake You Know Who. Not that I'm likely to do so as she sleeps soundly. Very soundly. When this happens I might give in and rouse myself to sit and read for a while, but that means I disturb the dog. The night before last I lay in bed mentally writing this blog. I composed some wonderful sentences covering a wide range of subjects and knew full well that people reading this purple - well, purplish - prose would be full of admiration for the 21st century Charles Dickens. Even I, in my wildest flights of fancy, couldn't rank myself alongside the Bard himself, but Dickens, with his great descriptive passages, well, yes, perhaps I was equal to him. Of course, I fell asleep and promptly forgot everything. And I overslept as well.