I used to take note of the hour like this:
“It’s 3:09 on a Monday morning, the darkness of the night heightens the unquenchable roar of the creek as a relentless rain licks the cold grey air, I am enticed by mysteries of space, time and eternal desire”
Now I mark the hour like this:
“it’s 3:15 am on a Monday morning, I am awake, why am I always awake?”
I was awake yesterday at this hour and will be awake tomorrow morning at this hour. It has become an addiction that I cannot kick. At the end of each day, when I find my tired mind and body in bed, I quickly slip away in the beautiful world of distorted perception and weightless soaring. I dream a million wonderful little scenes in the blink of an eye, and it is quite nearly, just a blink, as I am soon aroused from the deep, stirring in the sheets,
Damn it, it was all going so well, I was riding a bicycle through the thick black midnight air in Jamaica with a reggae producer who had witnessed the theft of my bag of jewels and we were going to get it back! I couldn’t see my hands in front of me as we sped along a country road, I followed closely as he encouraged me along, “it’s this way, follow my voice mon!” We approach a dimly lit cottage nestled into some kind of tropical junk yard. He sneaks around the back as I cause a ruckus in the yard. We are suddenly riding our bikes again, he has the jewels and we are being chased by men with guns, they are on bicycles too. My friend takes a sharp left on a side street, I veer around the right side of a house and am back on track, I see the bad men with guns ahead of me now, they are policemen. Now we are in a house with a rectangular stairwell and I struggle to get around the corner of each turn while bullets zing by my head, they miss and miss again but I’m stuck at the narrowing hallway, through a glass window I see the outstretched arm of my pursuer, his finger squeezes the trigger and I am awake in my bed.
It feels late, late in this realm means that I’m hopeful its at least 4 am, and I will have had about 6 hours of rest. I toss and turn for a while, maybe 20 minutes maybe an hour, I listen to the sound of the creek which is flowing strong & loud from the steady rain. I will not fall back asleep. I quietly get out of bed, I follow my feet to every silent spot of the floor and navigate my way out of the room without waking my wife. In the living room I see it is 1:30 am. damn it. There is a blanket and pillow waiting for me on the couch, I grab my phone and settle in…hmmm, what curiosities do I want to fulfill?
Did you know Goldie Hawn is 75?
It’s 3:54 am on a Monday morning.