A book lies open on my lap and I turn the pages slowly.
My enquiring wife asks “Are you reading ?”
“ No" I said and then added “Well yes,for actually I am dreaming into a book”
We have just returned from Ena’s at the Mill where we had a very satisfying lunch.
I sat heavily into my favourite armchair and relaxed….. picked up the book called ‘Charlie Chaplin’s Wishbone and other stories’ by Aidan Mathews.
To be totally honest the text merged so well with my dreams, that I new not whether I was awake or asleep…
My enquiring wife asks “Are you reading ?”
“ No" I said and then added “Well yes,for actually I am dreaming into a book”
We have just returned from Ena’s at the Mill where we had a very satisfying lunch.
I sat heavily into my favourite armchair and relaxed….. picked up the book called ‘Charlie Chaplin’s Wishbone and other stories’ by Aidan Mathews.
To be totally honest the text merged so well with my dreams, that I new not whether I was awake or asleep…
Perfection!!
ReplyDeleteIt was indeed :)
DeleteSounds a very relaxing Sunday afternoon .... I remember those ...... Vaguely .....
ReplyDeleteYour turn will come around again :)
DeleteOne could not ask for more my good man.
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely John :)
DeleteWhat a beautiful way of thinking, "I'm dreaming into a book"!
ReplyDeleteWell that was what my senses seemed to be doing. Thank you for the comment Mitchell.
DeleteKnow tat feeling well - it does often seem to occur on Sunday afternoons.
ReplyDeleteThank you Pat :P
DeleteA perfect description of how Sunday afternoon should be!
ReplyDeleteI thought so :)
DeletePerfect x
ReplyDeleteTotally :)
DeleteOf course a novel is a kind of dream of its own, but one that seems to be real.
ReplyDeleteThats why those pieces of writing are called novels d'you think :)
Delete