Visions Before Daybreak

      I had the strangest dreams running through my head this morning, before I opened my eyes to greet the day.  I saw words, all sorts of words, in all sorts of places, and all sorts of ways.  They were all anointed with personalities.  Some big,  Some small.  Some short.  Some tall.

    I looked around this room, the one in my head, and saw a group of words in the corner, next to my bed.  I walked over to greet them, introducing myself.  They were shy, little words, and didn't have much to say. 

    “I, am, we, you, and me, you see.”

    I told them they were always welcome in my room.  They smiled, and looked around.  I turned, and also looked around this room.  I saw loud words, boisterous words, full of themselves, Preposterous, ambiguous, absurd and absorbed in themselves.

     I saw laughing words. They were hilarious, they giggled and gaggled and choked on themselves.  They spit little bits of saliva as they groped for breath and words.

     I saw a small group of words next to the spiked punch-bowl.  They were fowl little creatures. Four letter words could be heard. They had too much to drink, and those words started to stink. 

     This is a synopsis, a smidgen of what I saw this morning, while the sun was coming up, and before my eyes opened to greet the day.  This is it, an unedited version of word visions at play.