May 13, 2000  Sleep Digest
 

There is the sleep of the dead and you can sleep like a baby. Neither of these describe last night.

Last night I slept like the deranged. Really I don't remember sleeping much at all. I woke because it was too hot. The noise of the fish tank woke me. I woke because it was too cold. I woke, yet again, for a rain storm. I woke once for nothing and stared out into the night wondering what had gotten me up. It seemed like it must be morning, but it
was far from it. So I just looked out, wondering.

You could say that I just didn't sleep well. You could say that but it would be an understatement. There are these windows to your soul. When you are awake you can see out of this window to the world. The window turns to look in on your soul only when you are writing poetry or sleeping. Last night my windows were turned on my soul, but my soul was not there. Instead, people were looking in. They weren't nice looking people at all. When they left, there was a menacing swarm of bees buzzing
outside, and then birds kept running into the window, breaking their necks and falling dead.

When you don't sleep well, this window is cloudy for you when you wake and are looking through it at the real world. Last night one of those birds must have hit too hard, and this morning my perception is cracked. The glass is thick and the crackrd straight through, so that the light dances off the edges of the crack. I can see distorted reflections of myself and refractions of the world, in the icy chasm of the crack.

Now I will have to rummage around in the garage, and look for something to cover the window. This will take all day. Maybe I can find a piece of glass to replace the cracked one, but it'll be hard to find and expensive. That may take weeks. At least I will hang some curtains so I don't have to look out on those nasty people, bees, and birds again, tonight. As if I didn't have enough home repairs to do.