Episode 36 ... a little bit of autobiography: part of the story of the inception of 'Stories from the Borders of Sleep'.
Somewhere between waking and sleeping on our journey towards the unfathomable deep, there comes a thin moment where we have one foot in the waking world and the other is in that other world where we relinquish conscious control.
Pausing here and straddled between two planets that drive one another like gears, the attentive traveler will notice a narrow door only wide enough to sidle through.
This is the border of sleep, where imagination and reality are braided together, a chasm in the crust of consciousness, venting the hot pumice of imagery into the irresistible magma of narrative.
Welcome to episode 36 of Stories from the Borders of Sleep, a semi regular podcast of curious tales from bordersofsleep.com featuring original stories by your host, Seymour Jacklin.
You can visit bordersofsleep.com for some more information or to leave us some feedback.
Artwork is by Robin Trainor, sound engineering is by Tim Wiles, and the soundtrack for this week's episode is from Countryside Stroll by Carrie Live, which you can get from magnitude.com so if you are ready to journey with me, then I shall begin my journey.
By Seymour Jacklin why would you take the time to listen to the story I'm burdened with tonight?
Well, we have many hours until dawn and we've exhausted conversation.
To be honest, all that talking was a little bit intense.
Sometimes when we're together it feels as if we're trying to teach each other with our talk and too often, I confess I'm rarely listening to my own thoughts about what you're saying and not really listening to you.
As your words go in my ears, I'm formulating a response that will fuel the conversation and drive us onwards.
I have a tale I'd like to tell you.
In fact, I'm desperate to share it with you because I trust you.
Let's break for a moment, get a coffee and then pull our chairs closer.
And when I'm finished, it'll be your turn to spin a yarn.
Well, I found myself in an old bookshop that had once been a train station where long platforms had laid down.
There were now bookshelves in rank and file by category, promising to hold all the knowledge in the world.
That's a good feeling, anticipating knowledge.
It might be better than knowing if all that was ever known or imagined was offered to you in a vast library.
Where would you begin?