I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself, too far into the future. I’m so tired from this bout of insomnia, though, I believe I can see through time. To be straddling the dissociative, disjointed “now” and the infinite, intriguing “soon” is simultaneously precarious and full of potential. I am like some sort of witch or gypsy, consulting the cauldron, gazing into the crystal ball. All the cards are arrayed before me, and it’s on to me to interpret their symbols and signs, even as I sip a steaming brew the leaves of which I shall read while still wide awake at midnight.
It’s been three days since I’ve slept in more than shallow snatches. Between keeping the cats up past even their nocturnal creature bedtime and baking pumpkin snacking cake at the oddest of hours, I’ve made my holiday gift list and checked it twice like Saint Nick; ordered lotions and potions for myself; folded every stitch of laundry in the house thrice; and written forward on my five-year plan despite not being at all confident I’ll live that long.
Is it possible to dream with your eyes wide open?
The answer is yes, if you let yourself rest back into the taunting cushions and wrestle passing words and images from the air.
Here’s a smattering of what’s appeared to me in recent days:
– A brace of anxious scenarios set at a recent job, not unlike that old canard of waking up on the last day of a semester having ditched every single lecture, but being compelled to sit for the final exam anyway
– An intricate map of a travel itinerary to Ireland, Scotland, and England cut from ancient whole cloth, as if I’d already made the journey
– The thick, persistent silhouette and dead weight of a deadline—two years to publish a novel or else embrace my day job career path into the C-suite
My future feels heavy and preordained. There’s no lightness in this being, and it’s becoming unbearable. I pray sleep will circumvent my wicked ways tonight.