I need to write things down again. I need to write to make the things wafting amid the tendrils of brain stuff more real. I can never catch them, normally. They have a yen and weft that doesn't conform to short-form recall, that eludes me the second I notice they are there - were just there. Often there's a false sense of revelation that comes when I (or the thing which connects dots and draws parallels) realize(s) a web of intercorrelatedness to things; only to have that bolstering mode dissolve in my hands. Usually I am left with that feeling after waking from a dream - a meaningful or impactful or emotionful one - where the first few moments of not yet being awake are a pleasant drift amid the remnants of those feelings as they disintegrate away from consciousness. The feeling catches the wake of something that was just a moment ago corporeal and image-laden, but now only exists as a bookmark denoting something I can no longer access: 404 t...