At almost three in the morning, when you are still awake and sleep does not seem to be anywhere in your vicinity, life takes on a different shape. It morphs into something a little more abstract, something that one can keep, and examine, at a distance, in a detached sort of way. You can contemplate your daylife, your work, your interactions, your plans and hopes and to-do lists and worries, and somehow, the emotions involved seem muted. Almost as if the life you are leading is completely separate from your nightlife, as if they carried on independently of one another, never touching. And, considering the dreams I have, that's not such a stretch.
But here I am, at almost three in the morning, wide awake because I stayed up too late last night and the neighbors below me are assholes that play their television or stereo too loud. I am propped up on a bank of pillows, tapping away at a laptop, swaddled in my down comforter. It's been a long time since I have had insomnia, and I don't know quite what to make of it. Why is it that our heads become so much more jumbled full of mental clutter when we are waiting for sleep to come?
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