Stress, on occasion, won't allow you to sleep, or to go back to Dreamland™ if you happen to wake up.
So, here I am, having been up since 2:00AM; I have an abusive neighbor who lives above me -- a semi-shut-in-by-choice with a quick temper who has had me wearing earplugs in order to sleep for the past five years -- and tonight, he isn't home. The first time in forever I could have slept normally, and I can't. Classic. And people wonder why I think The Universe has it in for me.
Anyway, I was reading this post by an artist whose work I enjoy looking at, and had this early A.M.'s Deep Random Barking Thought: I'm an artist, and a writer, and would probably be better off if I spend way more time doing that.