Deanna Hoak

My friend Pointoforigin has written a description of Morpheus that anyone who’s ever suffered from insomnia can appreciate:

Damn, it would be nice to be UNCONSCIOUS right about now. Morpheus! You sullen and ineffectual slut! Call yourself a god of sleep? You’re no god. You’re the highway repair worker of the pantheon. Always having a smoke break just when he might come in handy. I don’t think I want you to pave me over with your black asphalt of sleep, anyway. And I certainly don’t want to be rolled flat with your roller of dreams. So just sit there with your star-printed bandanna tied around your head and your ominous orange flag drooping from your hand, and drink your opium-laced iced tea from that battered black thermal jug. I’ll get along without you, so there. (The flag says SLEEP on it, and when it’s unfurled, all the cars drift slowly and dreamily off into the ditches, nosing into the brush like dogs nudging themselves deeper into the master’s covers.)

Writers have the best blogs. :-)