On a Mind Spurning Sleep.

I’m beginning to think that when I go to bed at night I don’t actually go to sleep. I suspect I stay awake and pass from one form of reality into another.

Last night’s alternate reality was uncharacteristically in situ. Instead of finding myself in some unfamiliar landscape with unfamiliar people, or fearfully negotiating a slippery slope with a drop of unknown but considerable depth beneath me (which is the sort of thing I’ve become used to lately), I was in my dimly lit living room feeling a strong sense that there was something beneath the floor depleting my health, strength, and energy. It didn’t feel supernatural, merely malignant. It went on for a long time and I felt mightily alarmed, and when I returned to the here and now in the cold light of day it continued to feel real (as it would if it was, if you see what I mean.)

I’ve said here before that I’m reluctant to get up in the morning because I don’t want to face the mundane reality of that world out there. Now I’m becoming reluctant to go to bed – even though I’ve been yawning all evening and am desperate for rest – because the other places are either frightful or depressing. I have three theories:

1. Last night’s experience was simply a dream in which my subconscious was trying to work something out.

2. I’m developing some sort of psychosis.

3. There really is something beneath the floor of my living room which is depleting my health, strength, and energy.

I’m choosing to presume that it was number one, but that presents its own problem because it leaves the matter of interpretation to be dealt with. And it seems odd that the many and varied roads I’ve walked in my life should have ended up here. Maybe I turned left somewhere when I should have turned right.