somniare.

sometimes, my head explodes

sleep altered May 31, 2008

Filed under: somniac — somniare @ 9:39 am

The unhappy have but hours, and these they lose.-Dryden

It stormed last night. The air is thick enough to drown in this morning. I opened the windows and filled the house with the earthy breeze, as if to replace the missing scents that make a home feel lived in. There are no more remnants of meals cooked, no hint of acrid carbon drifting in the air after blowing out the candles I lit before bed. This house screams of solitary confinement. One woman, possibly a child or two, once. No warmth, no love, no signs of life.

I woke up at 2:30 in the morning to the sounds of distant thunder. I walked downstairs and sat in my chair, staring off into space. For once, my rapid flip book memories had taken a break… too tired to go on, most likely. I mediated on the vacant space… contemplating the intricacies of the void. All senses dormant, I played a strange, silent game as I lurked on the periphery of an absurd alternate realm.

I thought to myself, “I’ll never sleep.”

Myself retorted, “I will, I just have to remember how.”

I packed up my mental baggage and dragged my broken soul back up to rest. As I laid in bed, I remembered how to sleep. To sleep, one must forget. I stopped the inner monologues, the mental televisions with broken channel changers, I evicted the deep cold of loneliness. From the top of my head to the tips of my toes, I tamed every biting ache, I pushed every ounce of tension to the empty side of the bed. In putting them to sleep, I had a partner. I slept with myself last night… I slept like the dead.

I’m awake now… and different.

There is no permanence in peace… but I certainly appreciate it more because it’s rare. To take a break from morbid meanderings and floundering hopelessness… nothing short of bliss.

If the sky can remember the sun after this storm, I can’t be one who has forgotten the light.

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rinse, repeat March 1, 2008

Filed under: in.between,my evolution,somniac — somniare @ 11:02 am

Questioning the many moons
revolving quantum lies
and a day late eclipse.

These are my late night words. This is what runs through my head while I sleep. Cryptic and foreboding. Like a final breath expelled, the last chapter has reached it’s conclusion. Inspiration is finite.

My limits have been reached and I stand at the edge of the world looking into space, contemplating mysteries and craving knowledge and new experience. It’s an unquenchable thirst and all I can do is stare at the distant oasis in this barren desert. Impasse.

I’d claim hiatus… but it could be a lie as it often is. Just when I’ve shriveled to nearly nothing, I stumble out into the rain and drink.

My drive is incubating. I refuse to let it waste… so I feed it. I read, I talk, I listen… absorbing. Perhaps it will blossom again. I’d like to think so.

Until then, know that I am not dead… just sleeping. And everything is alright. Gentle repose… the pause between heartbeats… the space between atoms… I lay there now.

This symphonic coda, a dramatic summation at the end of an era. I am realigning for a new epoch… the time draws near.

 

why I fear sleep October 31, 2007

Filed under: somniac — somniare @ 10:04 am

On mornings like this, I wish I hadn’t started dreaming again. I don’t mean that in the emo sense that I wish to crush my hopes and dreams, but the literal dream-sleep that I had been previously lacking. There have been a handful of really intriguing ones that I have felt the need to research more thoroughly but the one last night… well, it left me sick to my stomach.

I dreamt  of my ex-husband. Never before have I had a negative dream about him so this was disturbing. In real life, he has been taking the opportunity to trample me usually while drunk. In my dream, he was not drunk but you would never have guessed it. We were discussing some issues when he left to go to the bathroom. After getting an odd feeling, I went upstairs to check on him and found that he had gone into my bedroom and was pissing in the bottom drawer of my night table. I started screaming at him and he finished up his business, walked around the bed, opened the drawer to the night table on the other side and proceeded to vomit into it. I woke up sick to my stomach.

What in god’s name does a dream like that mean? The literal interpretation of pissing and vomiting all over my life? I may have to study this against my will just so I can get the disgusting visual out of my head.