100-Word Fiction: ‘Sleep Streams’

A river, rushing by her cheek – incessant streams of red carpet ceremonies – the stations tumbling by down the line – a lap-book, spine cracked and pages forgotten – speeches were a blur too – having dressed in the dark – and stayed up so late – that a blackbird could land on her hand and feed – if she could just doze – was it normal – or like a raven maybe – black hawks – the films that had won Oscars – and propaganda – not really hearing the alarm – these luscious moments were catnaps – was not a way to work – and everyone loved movies – and if five more minutes sleep