I woke up unnecessarily early, any leavings of Dreamland falling away from my brain as soon as I sat up in my bed. The heavy greyness of outside told me that the wetness of spring had bestowed upon my neighborhood the first True Houston Spring Morning of the year, perhaps… unless I’d just slept through the others. Possible, but not likely, as I’m an early riser. What is a True Houston Spring Morning? It’s when you walk outside and feel almost encased in a cocoon of humidity. It’s like you’re walking in a traveling, wet-ish sound booth. Also, everything feels hyper-real, maybe tottering on the verge of surreal. Like you’re in a movie. Possibly a dystopic horror flick. The effect this has on me, anyway, is a definite sense of the immediacy of plain reality. This is a situation when my head fills with inanities, only to swiftly purge them to make room for things of possibly greater substance. Today, however, I appear to still be waiting for such an occurrence.
When the Morning is Dense and Grey