I woke up in the middle of the night tonight for no good reason that I can tell. I was just minding my own business, pleasantly lost in the caress of a dream which I barely got to know, let alone remember, when it dawned on me with a cruel and slowly conscious understanding: I am not asleep anymore. To my chagrin, my first thought was:
“Perhaps I am still asleep and this is some horrible dream where I think I am awake, but I’m really deeply asleep. If I am not careful, I will enter a cycle of fantasy life, endlessly confused, caught in a whirlwind of abnormality, desperately seeking an unknown goal which would, of course, be waking up to normalcy.”
Of course, as my eyes unwillingly opened, I had somewhat of a shocking epiphany–this was normalcy. Not that I have any problem with normalcy… except when it’s most present as my alarm clock glaring in the early hours, feeling as intruded upon to be gazed at by anyone at such an awful hour as I did to be doing any kind of gazing. My next thought was to be angry:
“Damn you cruel world! I nestled in twilight’s bosom for protection, comfort, and slumber, and I am tossed away like an orphaned child, crying into the night!”
Okay, perhaps that is a bit of an embellishment. I was definitely cranky, though. I rarely wake up in the middle of the night but every time I do (especially if I cannot find good cause), I feel betrayed by something between my body and my brain.
My brain, cunning creature that it is, took a long hard look at my body. This whole sleeping and waking thing, it seems so biological… that just reeks of the body being at fault.
Thoughts, my body counters, You woke up thinking.
In the end, I take the logical choice that it is a grand conspiracy between the two and I will never know the truth, but my yet-to-be-born great-grand children will once they’ve unsealed the documents and deciphered the lies within.
Here’s to a glass of something warm and yummy for my tummy and another attempt slumber.
Good night and I hope you have slept better than me tonight!
Alas, your experience is being shared by another who happens to be reading this during their abrupt interruption from the warmth of their bed.