Tiffany Twisted

I am the type of person who likes to read herself asleep, but I have done plenty of that today. So I walk back to James' lamp, turn it on, and stare at it while lying on my belly, on James' couch. The lamp has a beautiful lampshade, with delicate pieces of stained glass. Shades of yellow, orange, white, and red were used in making it, but there are no blues or greens. Yet none seem to be needed. It is an autumn scene, and the pieces of glass are cut in triangles, artfully arranged so that it looks like leaves of various types. Maple, aspen, tulip tree... I can see tens of types, all merged in with each other, depending on how I look at it. I am getting tired now. Am I asleep? I am thinking of trees and the mysterious lamp, as if I were trying to sort out a puzzle. What was I missing? The way that the same triangle seems to be a part of several leaves, depending on how you view it, was the type of illusion that M.C. Escher liked to use in his sketches. Maybe that is it. But that does not seem to be the whole answer. I wanted to wake up and move, but my body is exhausted, and my mind is working on the edge of some problem that I can not quite understand, even to define what it is. My body is healing from the wear of the day. But my mind gets no rest.

1. I wake up, with a flash of insight.
2. I wake up, still bothered by the unsolved riddle. The lamp is still on, and it is a little past three in the morning.

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