4:51 AM| Sundays.

At times when I should be actual dreaming, I’m hopelessly awake and day dreaming of creation.

I spend the hours past my bed time in a doe eyed dazed, trying to wrap my brain around the rarity and beyond a word for beauty of an idea from complete scratch.

That’s the dream.

Being the first conscious to think there should be light in a room. LIKE. . . the understanding of what doesn’t exist in the process of an original idea is both mind boggling and depressing. I can give you a million ideas on what to do with light in a room, but I couldn’t suggest it before existed.

My example may be able to be debunked, and chalked up to my personal lack of  knowledge in electricity and science, but I’m too almost tired to think of another. Bare with me. I dream of being the first conscious to think of manipulating electricity into light. Instead of the conscious who innovates  said creation into a flash light. Extremely rare ting! ( I’ve been around Jamaicans, as of late.) Doing what hasn’t been done, and thinking what hasn’t been thought.

Sometimes when I’m alone, this late, I mumbler utter gibberish while doing crazy body movements in an attempt to be completely original.

However, I fear that it might just be weird.

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