Lucid Reveries

Sleep. They say it recharges me, clears my head, gives my body a break. But it also kills the flow, stops the train of thought, puts a brake on the madness. Sure, it’s healthy. Staying in one zone for too long? Nature says a day is my limit.

But what if I go beyond that? Not by choice. The zone is stretching, becoming a takeover. It starts squeezing the valves of my mind, the channels of my thoughts. So what? Nothing’s going to explode. Nature’s foolproof. No leaks, no escape hatches.

Insomnia. That’s the name for it. The overflow, too much consciousness. The waking state is crushing me. Eyes wide open, reality doesn’t stop. Keeps going for hours, days. The pressure is building. My rational and emotional engines are stalling. No fuel left. Where are the safety valves? The locks to keep me from sliding off the edge?

My body feels heavier in just a few hours. That’s not normal. Gaining weight takes time. Where does this phantom fat come from? It’s foreign. If it’s here to stay, it needs to make a pact with my body.

No deal with the constant awake state. It’s supposed to shut down, follow the cycle, the religion of sleep and wake. Obey the laws of science.

Sleep is a harsh truth. I have to accept it. But the unusual, the feeling of staying awake too long, it’s like a new reality with new rules. New experiences. Everything from the past is losing its grip. People around me change, they morph, a new scent.

My eyelids, the heaviest things on earth. Every inch of my body, a mountain. I don’t feel the wind anymore. The cracks don’t matter. Anger is disappearing. A strange calm is taking over. Hunger and thirst mix into a unique urge. No more indulgence. Just silent sailing, floating on fleeting thoughts.

No introspection. No rigidity. No sudden moves.

Neutral. Nature’s neutrality.

Nothingness emerges.

From nowhere to nowhere.

That’s what it wants to show me. It shows me. Then takes me back to sleep. The normal sleep. The routine. The machine.

This machine has a heartbeat. For a few hours before sleep, those beats, those vibrations.

Unaccounted.

Always were. Always will be.