Dreaming of Poetry - Katherine Roberts
Anne Bronte by her sister Charlotte (1845, public domain) Anne Bronte's poem Night begins: "I love the silent hour of the night, for blissful dreams may then arise..." As a child I, too, used to look forward to the night, tucked up safe and warm in my bed, knowing I would not be disturbed until morning and could invent stories all night long in my head if I so wished - although, in practice, I usually fell asleep quite quickly, and then forgot most of what I'd dreamt up during the night. In those days, my dream life and my story life must have been closely connected. I don't know if this is the case for all children, but it's probably easier to access your dreams when you're young. As adults, we tend to lose this connection. Nights get disturbed by snoring partners, crying babies, worldly worries, noisy neighbours, smartphone alerts, and - as you get older - an inconvenient need for the loo before it gets light. But I do still dream, even if (like...