I do sleep, admittedly not long enough, perhaps not deep enough but I do sleep.
I close my eyes and toss and turn as the last waves of emotions lingering from the day wash over me. And then the stillness sets in…
In my youth I longed for these moments, the moments before slumber. I used to conjure scenarios and let them play out in my head.
I loved the feeling of slowly losing control of the imagined as sleep encloses and they became dreams.
Paradoxically they were becoming more real to me as they cross over from the world of reality in which they were created.
Somehow I have lost that ability. Not only can I not guide my dreams nor give them a starting point… I cannot dream at all…
I still find comfort in sleep, in the reprieve it gives me from reality, but it no longer offers any joy, any possibility of living a parallel life, any chance to speak the unspoken,
to do the unthinkable, to feel what so needs to be felt.
I am not sleep deprived, I am dream deprived…and I miss them.