My Doyenne

She fell asleep on her couch, woke to think of what she should do.  Paint, draw, or go back to dreams?  Check her calendar?  No.  Why would she?  Nothing she could do about it now.  Now was for her.  But she didn’t fall asleep.  She enjoyed the quiet of that room.  Looked at that ceiling.  At this point, what should she do?  Meaning, at her age, how should she act?  “Should she” …  She snarled at that thinking.  What about her expectations?  What was she going to do, go back to that restaurant?  No, she reasoned.

Back to sleep.  Different colors, scenes.


More dreams.