The train chugged by my bed last night, and stopped just on the far side of my pillow. I was nearly asleep but I heard it pull up, all hissing steam and squealing brakes. I could see through the dark it was crammed full of fabulous lines that would fit perfectly into the part of my book I am working on. These fabulous thoughts just sat in their blazing red carriages, and begged me to stir; to sit up and take note.
"Flick on the light and write us down," they implored. "If you don't, we'll just go and find somebody else..."
"I'll remember you all - fear not..." I say to them.
"You are far too fabulous to forget," I add, clamping my eyes shut, reciting the fabulous lines in my head over and over again.
I hover beneath a fine blanket of sleep, and can hear the train chug away into the night; into that ethereal land of creative abundance from where it first came. Even this far away I can hear it change tracks and I know its journey is far from over. It searching for someone who will turn on the light and relieve it of its valuable cargo.
I wake in the morning - empty headed and full of regret.