It approaches 2AM. Why am I awake? Is it because I am sick? Or is it because I cannot seem to drain my mind of thoughts and worries? Perhaps one fuels the other. They all do.
Last night, as the thermostat in our apartment broke 80 as we were about to go to sleep, my girlfriend got me to cave and turn on the air. The cool manufactured air pouring through the vents onto my nude body, exposed because Erica had her nude body cocooned in the covers, resulted in my waking up this morning (well, technically yesterday morning) with a stuffy head and a swollen throat.
This lasted the day but I pushed through in order to satisfy the day’s demands. However, as these demands took their toll on my already weakened mind, the demands of the night grew to be daunting and then, eventually, defeating. I grew irritated and unfocused before collapsing agitatedly onto the bed around midnight. And yet, despite having gone to bed two hours ago, I sit here now, at my desk in the living room, cup of chamomile beside me, unable to sleep. I can’t even seem to envision sleep. It’s like the silenced darkness would prefer my waking company these hours. My mind is hazy, yet my perception is as vivid as the day, or, perhaps, the most vivid dream.
But there was something else that kept me from sleep. Yes, my throat feels as filled with glowing coals, but as I lie there buried deep in my pillow I could not make my mind darken. There is a wonderful line from “Calvin and Hobbes” (one of so many) in which Calvin declares the nighttime to be the most frightening time because all the fears seem more real. At least I think it was “Calvin and Hobbes.” I do not possess the desire to search at the moment. Nevertheless, the validity of that statement (in some variation) seems difficult to deny. In the bustle of the day we can easily distract our minds from that of which we wish not to think. But as the sun sets so does it take with it the very light which allows us to shade the unfavourable. In the comfort of bed, amidst the soothing silence of the dark, those shaded fears come to light, dancing in the helpless halls of our dreaming minds.
Maybe it was only that I am feeling sick, but tonight those fears jumped and jived (but did not wail) before me as on a theatre screen depicting a movie of myself. Each time I tried to cloak them in some other comforting thought, I failed; the worrisome images just jumped right through. The more I thought the worse my body felt, and so eventually I gave in and got up. The resiliency of my mind is no match this evening. It should follow, of course, that Monday is my “long” day. But I can’t worry of that now; there are too many others.