It used to be fun to up and about when everyone is in deep slumber. when i was still a kid, if midnight catches me awake, i’d spend hours reading, or doing just about anything that comes to my mind. imagine how liberating it was: everyone was trapped in their dreams, running after what they could not have, or being chased by demons that they kept in their minds. And me, i was carving my own fantasies, pretending to be an adult too busy to indulge in sleeping.
Work, i suppose, changes everything. sleep has become an evasive commodity. it obsesses you, and you spend the entire night plucking one by one the demons that haunt you. you are bothered by a reprimand, or by a task that seems insurmountable. you think of how old you are already, and how life-lust is abandoning you. you start questioning love, and other things that are less important.
i guess sleeplessness is just other form of cynicism: otherwise, why refuse to dream?
xfullman 