Mind Storm
It's strangely quiet as I sit here, uncertain of what to write. Usually, my mind wanders effortlessly, especially at night. Lately, however, I've found that I make more creative connections in the morning, before I get out of bed . . . the kind that have for weeks now had me saying, "I should write this down" . . . .
. . . . and then I'm up and plugged into the vast machine . . . swallowed as simply one more insignificant cog. My ideas dismissed as distractions while keeping pace on a perpetual treadmill that never seems to go anywhere.
Rinse, lather, repeat.
Existence becomes a cycle of renewed interest constantly trampled by frustration . . . . I come home at the end of the day and I feel as if something is off center, but I can't put my finger on it. So I mull around attempting to fill the void with something entertaining, or some simple pleasure, only to feel discouraged that the hours remaining won't afford me that luxury.
I lay down to sleep and then the mind storms begin . . . . slowly at first, off in the distance, the gentle rumble of ideas gathering strength. Flashes of insight strike with brilliant precision, illuminating an alien landscape that for a moment seems to make sense before the darkness reclaims it. Electric impulses jump from point to point in the blink of an eye . . . and I feel every point in between. I no sooner land in one spot than I am whisked up again . . . . I struggle to make sense of it all . . . . to comprehend the absurdities . . . and I am overwhelmed.
I do not sleep so much as lose consciousness when exhaustion finally takes me.
It has always been this way . . . . as long as I can remember. Except of course, that I once learned to forget . . . with the proper psychiatric attention. And during that time, the storms stopped . . . . but so did much of everything else it seemed. I did not know this at the time . . . . it was not until I began to ween myself away from my benefactor that I noticed that something had been missing.
Me.
It is truly a strange feeling to become aware that you are awake, but not fully conscious . . . do you know how dreams seem absurd after you wake up, but at the time you're having them they seem completely normal? Just the other night, I had a dream that I was back in the military, and I was standing around with my squad, having a philosophical discussion about the lucidity of some dreams. In this dream, I said, "I could be dreaming right now and not even know it."
Oh the irony . . . .
When I woke up I knew the dream was absurd immediately . . . we were wearing orange jump suits and stationed at some sort of shopping mall . . . but during the dream, my mind saw nothing wrong with this.
Well, coming off of meds, has been for me, very much like waking up from a somewhat absurd dream.
The storms are returning . . . but I see them differently now. They are full of energy that belongs to me . . . that is a part of me.
I am going to harness that energy . . . . and I am going to share it.
. . . . and then I'm up and plugged into the vast machine . . . swallowed as simply one more insignificant cog. My ideas dismissed as distractions while keeping pace on a perpetual treadmill that never seems to go anywhere.
Rinse, lather, repeat.
Existence becomes a cycle of renewed interest constantly trampled by frustration . . . . I come home at the end of the day and I feel as if something is off center, but I can't put my finger on it. So I mull around attempting to fill the void with something entertaining, or some simple pleasure, only to feel discouraged that the hours remaining won't afford me that luxury.
I lay down to sleep and then the mind storms begin . . . . slowly at first, off in the distance, the gentle rumble of ideas gathering strength. Flashes of insight strike with brilliant precision, illuminating an alien landscape that for a moment seems to make sense before the darkness reclaims it. Electric impulses jump from point to point in the blink of an eye . . . and I feel every point in between. I no sooner land in one spot than I am whisked up again . . . . I struggle to make sense of it all . . . . to comprehend the absurdities . . . and I am overwhelmed.
I do not sleep so much as lose consciousness when exhaustion finally takes me.
It has always been this way . . . . as long as I can remember. Except of course, that I once learned to forget . . . with the proper psychiatric attention. And during that time, the storms stopped . . . . but so did much of everything else it seemed. I did not know this at the time . . . . it was not until I began to ween myself away from my benefactor that I noticed that something had been missing.
Me.
It is truly a strange feeling to become aware that you are awake, but not fully conscious . . . do you know how dreams seem absurd after you wake up, but at the time you're having them they seem completely normal? Just the other night, I had a dream that I was back in the military, and I was standing around with my squad, having a philosophical discussion about the lucidity of some dreams. In this dream, I said, "I could be dreaming right now and not even know it."
Oh the irony . . . .
When I woke up I knew the dream was absurd immediately . . . we were wearing orange jump suits and stationed at some sort of shopping mall . . . but during the dream, my mind saw nothing wrong with this.
Well, coming off of meds, has been for me, very much like waking up from a somewhat absurd dream.
The storms are returning . . . but I see them differently now. They are full of energy that belongs to me . . . that is a part of me.
I am going to harness that energy . . . . and I am going to share it.