It’s a funny thing. Even now I often find myself wide awake staring at the ceiling, and when the Ambien runs out, it seems as though all I do is toss and turn. However, a wry irony lurks within such sleepless nights by which my restlessness ultimately becomes the fuel for all sorts of dreams — consciously wakeful though they may be.
Adam does what I cannot seem to do – use that curse of too much awake time to be productive and turn my sleep deprived dreams into reality. Even as young as he is, he has learned to harness the power of that which keeps his eyelids glued open and uses it to bring his dreams to life.
Despite any such treatment, the ailment is altogether chronic and incurable BUT it may be the very reason by which I’ve unearthed such elusive, yet stunning beauty within such malady.
The elusive, yet stunning beauty within such malady.
To have such insight and vision to see the beauty in the very thing we feel is a curse is a gift. Embracing this gift may not lead to restful sleep, but it may bring me to a place where I can accept my normal and learn to work within it.
By the same idea, the alluring light at the end of the tunnel can often flicker and burst forth into a hideous freight train hurtling in my direction.
Been there, many times. The freight train is the reminder that my beautiful malady has a dark side that I must deal with on a daily basis. The creative dreamer must make the freight train, the insomnia, the oddity, the malady work together.
However, I delight in the mere fact that being a dreamer often exempts me from the rules of reality and her consequences, be they good or bad — and I love how dreams propel the mind of an artist into imagining what the world might be like if such dreams were in fact reality. It’s a compelling thought and it keeps me on my toes. I love that.
Adam often says that “reality is a lovely place but I wouldn’t live there.” I know exactly how he feels.