Ay, there's the rub.

I'm restless and I can't sleep. So, not understanding it, I draw my laptop towards me and think about what to write and yet what I conjure is as light as air. I find myself riddled with thoughts, plots, ideas, people, music, wonders and nowhere to rest them. And so they race.

I see your brows are full of discontent,
Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears.

This is only fleeting, like a sudden mist gathering over a cliffside town, but when I wake, I hope things are clearer.

We are such stuff that dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

I feel like my brain is buzzing. I'm already feeling the straight-jacket of stress. Though for the moment, there is nothing immediately pressing, I can feel it approaching. Is it just me or is this feeling common? I constantly find myself wishing to escape.

Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!
Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets!

O but that day should crawl closer and be sooner..

To sleep, perchance to dream- ay, there's the rub