When Darkness Meant
Funny how things work sometimes, you go through a period of good sleep and positive vibes. Then out of the blue anxiety and restlessness creep back in like unwanted company on a quiet summer afternoon. Today is day three of my adventure. I end up going to sleep easily enough, then during the night I awake out of the blue. Heart racing, stomach turning like out of a bad dream, minus the bad dream. After a day of creating and a bit of restlessness, you would think my body would welcome the night. Instead after a few hours of deep sleep I awaken to something that aligns itself to fear more than anything.
At times it annoys me, but more than anything I feel the terror it throws me into. After a few moments of going through a systems check I can sometimes go back to sleep. But more often than not, I do want I'm doing now write. It seems that my restless nights have become a muse of sorts. A distractor on one hand and a comfort in the other. A sad mistress I can't seem to shake. Maybe at the core it's the thoughts and worry that keep me up. Maybe after so many years of being hostage to this tormentor, I've become dependent on it. Like a prisoner in some long forgotten war.
Either way the breast has it's claws in me and it's hard to tell where I began and it ends. But for now my heart has quit pounding, and a hint of drowsiness falls into my eyes. Maybe now this parable is over. Still as the night's terror reseeds back into its dark corner. Still I can't help but wonder, at what moment will it return to pillage and rob me again. Of the sweet rest I lost so long ago, when darkness meant a good night.