This is a special kind of night. It’s the way things fell into place, but we’re not talking about contrived coincidence or, as one may put it, fortune or luck or fate. It’s just that, being here, headphones on to Jack Johnson, and waiting for a dream to come; it’s a kind of serene pleasure I’ve probably never had. And it feels great, in a quiet kind of way. Therefore, it’s special, as special goes.

It had rained. Heavily. I drove away from work and into malignant clouds, which proceeded to throw chaos and ensured the roads were jammed. And maybe because of the room’s comfort, made cosy by the aftermath of the weather’s toil, I fell asleep right after dinner. It was wholly unintentional, and I sank into sleep the few minutes I sat on the bed while waiting for the computer to boot. My dreams were bright and unreal and formless.

I woke up with a panic, but it was only 11.30.

Part of me wanted to work, but the most of me knew how pointless that would be. The dregs of sleep cantered and frolicked, and scattered my flock of thoughts.

There’s no way this post would be anywhere meaningful or worth anything, but Rule 1 was to get the words down no matter what. And as Sam Vimes put it; if you give yourself any reason to not do it, sooner or later you won’t.

(Or something in that effect. Terry Pratchett is too much of a genius for me to quote, and my flock of thoughts are scattered).

And I shall end this here, as this. Not much of a thing to mark a night I deem special, but I think I knew it in myself that the nights for the past month had been special ones themselves.

Nay. It’s really the days. Or rather, the Time.

Life, right now, is special.