( w y s t )

Mornings.

I have a love hate relationship with sleep.  Much how I imagine any addiction, I love it when I’m in the midst of it, but I hate how much of my life it consumes.  Most of all, I hate it when I need it.

I would rather be stuck in one of my insomnia bouts than one of the phases where I just can’t stay awake during the day as I am currently though.  I slept 11 hours last night which meant I could escape the usual dance I do with the snooze button.  I stumble over like someone trying to fight off a general anesthetic.  Then when I finally get to the source of the infernal noise my brain just bypasses all logic and demands another 5 min sleep like an angry drunk bullying a scared bartender for another drink.  I kid you not, I have done the snooze dance for over two hours before.  The little snapshots of consciousness are almost like contractions in preparation for birthing my brain into reality, and when that transition happens, everything hurts.  The faintest noise is a visceral onslaught, maintaining balance makes me feel proud of myself and operating potentially burny things like the kettle with shaky hands makes me feel like someone trying to diffuse a bomb.  I nearly put the washing powder in my coffee instead of sugar this morning.  I think I would have cried.

Insomnia is much gentler.  If you can keep your head above the waves of tiredness during the day, everything is softened and slowed.  Your mind retracts inside itself and everything is viewed as if seen through a zoomed out lens.  Random details can become fascinating.  It still prevents you from enjoying a lot of things though, and the only option to sober up is to  sleep and then go through the pain of waking again.

Also last night I dreamed I was in a dancing contest partnered with David Schwimmer.  There were training montages.