Why is sleep such a different world from my waking reality? I've heard it described as the perfect example of complete and total abandon. That couldn't be closer to the truth. Awake, it's impossible for me not to be in control. I try to plan for every possible scenario and tend to go into convulsions when things don't go the way I hoped.
Reality is too messy, too clumsy, too awkward, and too real. It's beautiful because it's not what we'd imagine it to be. Life doesn't follow a sitcom formula and its characters are never predictable. How does a generation raised by television cope with problems that aren't solved in half an hour?
I'd love to be able to just let each day wash over me like a wave that knocks me off my feet without being frightened that I've lost my grip on the sandy bottom. Why do I crave control when I only really feel alive in those moments of panic and exhaltation when I'm living in the freefall?
Sleep and exhaustion aren't nearly so exciting, but there's still something remarkable about forsaking reality so completely and taking such an unclear exit into another world that can never be truly charted or understood. I wonder where our souls go when our bodies collapse from the weight of the day. As our bodies recharge, do our souls do the same? Maybe the openness of slumber frees us from the limitations of our finite imaginations and allows us to mingle and intertwine with the supernatural world that's not meant to be defined. This nightly exodus really seems to be a swing back and forth between two completely separate locations. If my soul is off wandering, who's watching my body? What sort of mischief could/does it get up to if left to its own devices? Is the gradual waking stages the process of my spirit sliding back into place? Is sudden waking so painful and disorienting because it's like pulling a fish out of water? Or is it more like throwing him back? What sort of creatures are we? And which state (sleeping or waking) is our natural environment?
The change between the two is like a journey with varying amounts of the characteristics of each strewn across the way. I really have to believe that there are all sorts of degrees of awake/asleep between the two extremes. I've done far too many things that a fully sleeping person shouldn't do. I've been under the impression that I was having a real life conversation with Lauren, when in fact I'd really only nodded off while reading one of my textbooks alone in my room. I actually felt bad for breaking off this conversation that never existed when I woke up. I felt rude for leaving when Lauren was clearly trying to tell me something important and I wanted to run down to her room to continue it. I've had full conversations with people that I only know about from what they've told me. I once answered the door while I was napping and I only remember waking up in my bed instead of on the couch. I've woken up several times with fewer clothes on than I went to sleep with. Repressed memory is a terrifying concept. If not afterwards, am I conscious of these things as they happen? If I'm not in control, who is?
What happened to the simplistic world in which everything made sense?
Probably never really existed.
