Late nights I often find myself awake to dark painted skies, the tall tree in view of my bedroom window buried within the evening’s silhouette. As I venture into the a.m. I would always notice how particularly still the air during these particular hours, with everyone in the house already sound asleep. Except for me, left with the dim lamp light and my thoughts.
I cuddle up against my thick blanket sheets, letting the fabric embrace me in it’s warmth. I want to sleep, but I keep awake. It doesn’t feel as though I’m forcing myself, no, but I don’t particularly want to be here, either. I rest against my sea of pillows, tossed around in an irregular pattern from nights of an unmade bed. I lay on a vessel, ship-like, where with every sleep it sails me to my dreams.
Maybe if I turned the lamp off would I fall asleep. No, not yet. For my spirit has an empty, unfulfilled feeling. Contemplation churns my gears. It bothers me, as the more I ponder, the more I let them consume me. Some days I allow for the taps beneath my eyes to open, salted waters flow and clog my nose; other times, I stare into nothingness, still here but also elsewhere. I yearn for distraction yet something more meaningful, a place to pour these emotions like secrets in a bottle.
My favourite part of the night is the way it seems to sing songs. From my window the moon watches over me, and the glowing beams of planes often pass through. The quiet atmosphere colours my spirit with creative energy, an urge to bring life to my ideas before they’re forgotten.
Depending on my energy, different songs sing; some nights the speakers of my music player tell tales, popping in a CD to match my mood. I keep the volume to a low, though I recite the words as though I am my own neighbour.
Other nights, I carefully pull out my little ukulele, being my own storyteller as I come up with the melody on my own. If my feelings desire, I also bring with me my sketchbook, sketching ideas for my next dream.
It comforts me as much as my blankets until I become tired and doze off, my heart whispering melodies as I dream into the rising morning sky. In my sleep, I thank the darkness for its songs.
ʚ sloom ɞ 