Going Backwards.

I wish I could throw off this dullness which seems to be infecting my brain lately. My sense of humour and whimsy is deflated, my fondness for the silly and the surreal lies languishing like a pan of day old porridge, the delightfully dotty ditties are failing to find access to my beleaguered brain, there are notable and valuable people to whom I can no longer talk because I can’t raise my consciousness to the appropriate level, and even my old friend and mentor the llama is conspicuous by his absence.

Maybe it’s the weather; maybe it’s the fact that the year now sinking below the horizon has been a difficult one; maybe it’s a growing empathic response to the state of the world and the people running it; maybe it’s the perception that the sands of time are running apace; or maybe it’s nothing more than the usual low-light blues of the winter season.

What really worries me is that I might be descending into the grey pit of sanity. That would be a backward step indeed.

But at least I had a heartening dream a few nights ago. I was looking out of my living room window when I saw a mountain lion walking up the garden path. I was just considering whether to go out and see what it wanted when I saw an elephant sauntering up the lane. It didn’t last long, but it was better than the nightmares.