Niehku!

I don't really dream anymore.

I think my vastly messed up schedule has convinced my brain to not bother with the pretty images and just save whatever power I can manage to store to sleep through the night and until morning, keeping everything but the very systems that guarantee my continued existence idling in the background. It's a survival strategy, even a mercy, but damn that going to bed just to face eight hours (if I'm lucky to even get that many) of pitch black nothingness grinds my gears in a very different way -- it's like getting exhausted by resting, something that shouldn't be possible, yet it happens on the daily.

And the sad reality is that I miss my silly dreams. I even miss my nightmares. Yet, they both seem to be out of reach for my exhausted, aching, caffeinated "think box", which keeps me on high alert when it should be broadcasting the sleep signals, makes me sleepy when I should be wide awake, and produces nothing when I should be eased into rest & recovery each and every night.

I dream about dreaming at this point. And, in a very real sense, that's a proof that I'm not ready to give up the one thing that had ruled my past and made me sit through endless, pointless classes and exams just to have something to fantasize about after the day was over.

May we all have sweet dreams tonight & ever.