Saturday, February 14, 2004
THE INFORMATION COMES AT NIGHT
Engulfed by darkness.
And pillows and blankets.
Rapid eye movement.
Then less rapid eye movement.
Eyelids flutter, heartbeat slows, breathing evens.
Thump thump thump, is that me or the upstairs girl stomping to the toilet?
Roll over. Begin again.
Conscious, but short-lived.
Eyes scan darkness, heartbeat quickens, am I dying?
No, I'm sleeping.
No, I'm dreaming.
No, I'm crying (how did I get myself in this mess?)
You know very well how.
Now go back to sleep.
...
So rare and fleeting are the glimpses of truth that are normally thwarted by ignorance and distraction. Daily life makes their detection difficult, but they are always there, albeit mostly under the cover of anonymity, or perhaps under the cover of one's bed, and in turn, under the cover of a dream, which may not really be a dream at all, but rather, an acutely heightened sense of awareness and self.
Engulfed by darkness.
And pillows and blankets.
Rapid eye movement.
Then less rapid eye movement.
Eyelids flutter, heartbeat slows, breathing evens.
Thump thump thump, is that me or the upstairs girl stomping to the toilet?
Roll over. Begin again.
Conscious, but short-lived.
Eyes scan darkness, heartbeat quickens, am I dying?
No, I'm sleeping.
No, I'm dreaming.
No, I'm crying (how did I get myself in this mess?)
You know very well how.
Now go back to sleep.
...
So rare and fleeting are the glimpses of truth that are normally thwarted by ignorance and distraction. Daily life makes their detection difficult, but they are always there, albeit mostly under the cover of anonymity, or perhaps under the cover of one's bed, and in turn, under the cover of a dream, which may not really be a dream at all, but rather, an acutely heightened sense of awareness and self.
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