Insomnia, Storm, Slumber (110)

Last night was one of many sleepless nights. It was accompanied by a severe thunderstorm. As if on cue. But, it's story unfolded and ended as suddenly as it began.

Ours, mine, yours- it's a story in the middle. Each of us a page in a giant novel called life. Our setting may be out of our control- the plot has been outlined for us as well.

It's the dialogue, the resolution that is for us to decide.

Tonight

I awaken, its late or early, depending on your perspective. An hour of shut down. A night ahead of tension and wakefulness. Seems this routine is unbreakable.

Days have numbers, names, semblance. Time does not. Like in a movie montage, the arms of the clock are spinning rapidly, trying to progress the story. But this plot isn’t moving forward.

Vivid dreams, clarity of thought, precise concerns- this virus has created not just a viral moment- virtually and physically- but also a deep, undeniable honesty within me.

What once felt insignificant, is now expressive. The trivial cognition I was experiencing in my former life, is now ponderous and influential. It whispers- pay attention. Former subtlety is now cheers and jeers from the sidelines.

Not applause or accolades. Not pride or confidence. But, realization, reflection, a continual fight to stay above water. Trying desperately to ignore the onslaught of division, its ugly.

This large-scale, monumental occurrence has stirred up the bottom. The underbelly of negativity, the bedrock of indignation and the sediment of self-centeredness and shame. Kindness is out there, generosity is present- but antagonism is floating to the top.

But, with the slurry and sludge, has come an awareness. Inner contemplation. Leading to betterment or complacency. But- either way, it has drudged up foggy bottom, to say the least. It’s hard to see through the murk.

It’s a thick film, undeniable. Oily, messy and toxic. There is too much to push aside. I have to swim through it.

This Night

Crash, crackle, snap. Lightning flashes. It’s early, still dark outside. Quiet, between electrical charges. The rumble of recognition builds, then like a slap in the face, shakes me to the core. This duality of sound and sight startles me alive somehow.

Pop. I hear it, a transformer nearby, hums loudly then silences.

It is deafening for a moment, the transition from the whispers of household appliances to reticence. Streetlights disappear. My computer beeps, letting me know it is no longer receiving a current, a lifeline. I unplug it, just in case.

Then a surge vibrates, my hair statics straight, my skin shivers and creeps. Stillness is heavy. Electricity is not.

Wind is loud. The trees are taking a beating. Branches are scratching against the window. Beckoning to enter like a flood. Tap, tap, tap- “Hello? I know you’re awake.” I catch a glimpse of the Shining- “Come play with us Danny.” A big wheel never seemed so evil before.

The street is filling to the brim. I can’t see it, but I know from past experience. Harvey is a loud visual that still haunts. Water does what it wants, at any cost. The price of liquid. The cost of currents, patterns and trends.

I can’t seem to move. I just sit staring out at nothing- as if the world has vanished. House black. Neighborhood obscure and eclipsed. Moon hidden behind clouds.

It is eerie, yet somehow comforting. As if the troubles of life, were swallowed up by this absence. This peculiar presence. I feel a sense of calm amidst the vibrato of nature’s orchestral feast.

Morning

As I pour my soda into a clear glass- the liquid slithers over the ice. It settles making a cracking noise, letting me know a gas exchange is happening.

Condensation, evaporation- simultaneous. The elixir becomes inviting- once in a warm can, now in a chilled container.

Daylight reveals some fallen trees, pine needles and cones strewn across every inch of asphalt and pavement. Gutters filled to the brim.

But, with the mess, comes an abandon. No life seems visible. Strays are isolated. Humans distancing.

A realization, a somber clarity. A flashback to the big wheel, twins, Stephen King.

A long night.

Click, tick, knock. Reticence becomes the whispers of household appliances. Beeps of re-connection, to a virtual cosmos.

Hypnotic, lethargic, slumberous. I shuffle off to sleep.