Who

I'm drifting
Floating
Just a wisp of wind

Never sure
Always wondering
Forever confused

Lightly sleeping
Almost awake
Somewhere in between

Who am I, really?

Conscious Unconscious

Every night I sleep a little less. And every time I finally give in to sleep I sleep a little more.

The night is no longer the restful place it once was. It is instead, a harbor for the delusions of my mind to become closer to the reality of the day. When the sun sets, my mind takes off, running rampant over the serene field that is my sanity. It seems to know that I am defenseless towards the visions it creates in the darkness. Dreams mix with reality without my awareness of the passage between the two. I am unable to trust the world I see, for it always carries the possibility of being a lie.

My dreams too, keep me from sleeping. Even when I am no longer physically able to stay awake, I do not want to give in to the unpredictable world of the subconscious. Yet, when I am awake I am still haunted by the nightmares of the nights when I allowed myself to give in to sleep. I cannot allow myself to go back into that haunted world. Each stretch without sleep is a little longer than the last.

When enough time has passed without sleep, I finally have to give in. My body can no longer handle what my mind forces it to do. I prepare myself for the coming cold of sleep and let go. In the time when I let my consciousness disappear, I sleep for a long time. The sleep is numbing, thoughtless, as there is no energy to spare for dreaming. It is almost pleasant to feel that nothing.

When I awake from my slumber coma, it feels as though years have passed while I slept. My mind aches with a sort of pain that cannot be described, for this is no physical equivalent. Perhaps it is the sudden shut-down of my rational thoughts that causes it, but whatever the reason, it leaves me unable to think for a long time afterwords.

My physical body too, is affected by this long shut-down. It aches in one constant hot wave, moving around to reach places in which I did not know could feel pain. I am left in a state of physical exhaustion because of the "rest" I had. My bed becomes the only place I am willing to be. I stay there for hours, thinking nothing, moving nothing. I am awake, but I lie still, being nothing. Sometimes an entire day passes before anyone forces me out of my state of nothingness. Each time I lay still for a little longer.

I wonder if someday I will stay awake long enough that when I give in I will simply never wake up.

Sleep

I cannot sleep, it seems. I find myself once again awake when the sky is at its very darkest and sound only comes from the nocturnal creatures outside. With my bedside lamp turned on I feel as if I belong in another time when that lamp would instead a flickering candle. The glow is warm, enveloping me in its comforting light. I compose these words in a leather-bound journal reminiscent of days long past.

Still I wonder, what is it that has kept me up this night?

My mind seems empty, void of all thoughts. Perhaps it is that emptiness that keeps me awake. It is a feeling that was always so foreign to me. More recently it has come to be an ever present sensation as I lie awake in the night. It is no wonder that I would find no comfort for sleep when such a feeling lingers in my mind.

Or perhaps this empty feeling is more of a numbness. It is created by my own mind to hide the unbearable number of thoughts and ideas that lurk in my subconscious. It is a strong dose of painkillers for a suffering that no one would be able to bear. Sometimes the pressure of all the ideas does seem as if it will break me apart. If this is the reason for the numbness, I should not be surprised that my body would someday develop a defense for the blow.

As I write this out, I seem to have broken through to my pool of thoughts. It seems to be overflowing once again. the sensation of my mind once again filling up is familiar to me. I would rather have this incomprehensible mess of questions, thoughts, ideas, and plans than that numbing emptiness any day.

Perhaps now that my head is again buzzing, I may be able to sleep.

Middle of the Night

I love the silence of the night.

At first, the only thing I can hear is silence. It is beautiful. Free of the noises of the day, thoughts can run free in the night. Then, I come to notice the humming of the vent beside my feet. I hear the blinds swaying and rustling from the draft passing by, and the creak of the bed as my sister turns over in her sleep. I wonder about what she is dreaming.

Sitting at my computer, I can hear the sounds of my fingers on the keyboard and the click of my faithful computer mouse. How nice it is to let my fingers channel into written words what I can not usually say. My little dog reminds me of her presence when she sighs a sleepy sigh. It is a gentle sound; it comforts my restless soul. The wind whistles outside, reminding me of how nice and warm this house is.

The chair creaks. I hear a car zoom by. I imagine a scenario that explains the reason for the passengers of the car to be in such a hurry in the middle of the night. I am envious. It would be nice to be able to just drive away and escape like that. I will find somewhere for me to escape to eventually.

I look at the clock. It reads 2:24. Everyone around me is surely asleep. I realize that my leg is asleep as well. How long have I been sitting here? The silence blankets over me once again. I yawn. Perhaps it is time for me to join the others in the world of dreams.