Monday, 27 May 2013
Every bloody morning...
I wake up at 4am.
It doesn't matter what time I go to bed, I still awake at four. I have tried staying up until four in the morning but was then unable to fall asleep. I have tried drinking myself into oblivion but only wake up at the same time with a raging hangover. It really is very tedious because I am genuinely tired. I really want to go to sleep. I can hear my pillow calling me. I am filled with envy at the sound of Marcia's steady, peaceful breathing. The gentle wash of surf on the beach should be soothing. At this time of the morning I find it irritating. My hearing is so acute, I can hear the dogs padding around outside, Rico's guards whispering a hundred yards away, light footed geckos chasing insects. If there is a breeze there is, to me and me alone, the deafening cacophony of palm fronds caressing the roof.
To pass the time, I read the Telegraph on line. Then the Independent and, just to prove I may be awake but my brain isn’t, I read the Daily Mail.
It is my brain that is the problem. When I am asleep, however briefly, I have vivid dreams. Most of them are nice, set in places infinitely preferable to reality; I have been spending a lot of time with my late father recently and that is really nice. He looks older but not as tired as he did just before he died. Other dreams are so bizarre as to defy description.
In this ‘Other World’ my visits to which are so frustratingly brief, I can fly. Not with ease, I hasten to add, I have to both relax AND concentrate. Now the two don’t usually walk (or fly) hand in hand but trust me, crack it and you can fly. And it is a truly wonderful experience, if a little scary as I am always conscious, in my unconscious state, that if I think about the fact I am flying, which is impossible, humans can’t fly, I will fall out of the sky and wake up with a sudden start just as I am about to plough into the ground (clearly a sort of ethereal ejector seat). As a result, flying straight and level is an art. I am getting pretty good at getting up there, the trouble is that once I am up there (don’t forget, my knees go weak looking over a second floor balcony I am so frightened of heights) I can’t help thinking about it and instantly lose altitude at an ever more alarming rate. Birds must have the same problem, they are forever crapping themselves midair. Think about it though. You have thought yourself up to a great height by not thinking about it and relaxing instead. Now you suddenly think, ‘Holy Fucking Christ! I’m a million miles high!’ and, as you plummet earthwards as a result of thinking, you think, ‘I know I am stressed right now but I really must concentrate on not thinking anymore’. You try relaxing when you are hurtling in towards terra firma faster than Google Earth can zoom yet sometimes I do manage it and, just in time, claw my way over tree tops into free air again. It is terrifying yet exhilarating. No wonder I cannot sleep once I wake up.
It is my brain, you see, if it would just relax and stop thinking so I could concentrate, I wouldn’t crash and could enjoy a decent night’s sleep.
For reasons that must now be all too evident, I usually do not write and post at this Godforsaken hour.