These days, I have to lay in bed for a little while longer to let my dreams unravel. I close my eyes while the dreams complete, spinning and whirling in my head and while another part of me tries to make sense of them. These days, I’m so tired I could sleep all day if I allowed myself to. I’ve come up with a strange belief. If I am constantly tired and it’s not for any medical reason, it’s because my body is charging itself for some future business. Somehow it knows that days or weeks from now I’ll be losing sleep and so it’s collecting as much of it as it can, gearing up for the future fatigue. I know it’s silly. But it’s always somehow been true, for me.
My dreams these days are vivid and delicious. It’s as if I’m living life more deeply when I’m sleeping. But I wake up and when I do I have to take a moment to remind myself that I am not in a dream, pull myself out of bed, and begin to search for some purpose for my day.
Some days the purpose finds me.
It’s not just my mind that’s unravelling. It feels as if my whole being is going through some kind of separation. All my layers are being pulled out, spun out, and laid out. The way you would lay out photographs as you try to decide which ones are special enough to be framed. Perhaps that’s what I’m doing–deciding which parts of me deserve to be displayed and which ones need to be tucked away.
It takes practice to be yourself. Perhaps that is why we stumble through our lives. Though I have noticed that some people have sureness about themselves from a very early age. It’s a very beautiful thing. The rest of us will take a few extra moments to collect our selves in the morning, decide who we want to be and find the appropriate costume to play out the role. Until one day, it becomes so natural that we assume it’s how we’ve been our whole lives.