Dream Weaver

It happens in the moments just before I lose consciousness, those dwindling skewed fragments of reality intertwined with fiction and dreams. If I actually allow myself the luxury of slipping into a bountiful slumber there's no way I'd remember them. When I was younger I always wondered what happened in the fleeting moments of the waking state--what is it like to actually fall asleep? Why couldn't I ever remember? As I've grown in age, curiosity, attentiveness, and unfortunately the number of times I'm forced to fight off the coax of sweet rest, or, as I've had the number of times I'm violently shocked back in to reality markedly increase, I've been able to take note of the process, to scrutinize it more in depth. And let me tell you, it's some messed up stuff.

Though I can't say I know from experience, it seems awfully similar to some drug induced hallucination. It can come as the perversion of what's on my mind at the moment sleep grabs me, or it may be something totally unrelated that has decided to force its way to the forefront of my thoughts. For sleep comes swiftly, you can try and fight it off, but in the end it will have hold of you before you even realize what's happened. And thus, often you don't realize it at all as you’re already asleep. But recently, as I said, I've had numerous experiences of being jolted to an alert state just as the sandman has gone in for the sleeper-hold.

For example, one day a couple months ago, I had been trying my best to pay attention to my Geography lecture, but as I began dozing off in class an odd strain of thought ran through my mind, "Choma reflects more sunlight than Kevin--38 degrees" just as my head quickly slumped down, crudely waking me again as I jerked back upright. I know not what the 38 degrees signifies, nor if it's related, perhaps the angle of sunlight? I couldn't tell you. But I do know those two bits of information were one in the same to me. That was kinda trippy.

Another time this fall I was attending an orchestra concert that a friend of mine was playing in, but despite the fine performance I found it extremely difficult to stay awake going there on four hours of sleep. Time and time again my head bobbed down with the weight of sleep and snapped up again as I tried to resist. But as I gazed back towards the orchestra I could have sworn there was a giant upside down hamburger resting on the right side of the stage, complete with one violin player sandwiched (literally, HA!) inside and two more sitting on their chairs on top of the bun. At the conclusion of the next song I decided it was time for me to head back to the dorm and catch a nap.

Then there was the matter of the term paper I was finishing just earlier this week in the wee hours of the morning. I could vaguely sense fatigue creeping up on me and I struggled to hold on to one thought in my mind so as to type it before sleep erased its contents. I kept repeating it over and over, no longer sure of the meaning of the words, but just trusting that it must make sense to a conscious person. And I typed it. A few seconds later as I regained my senses, I read the sentence with a clear mind. It read "She was paid in the dog money." It started out well with the "she", for the paragraph had been about a woman. But that's about where the Making-Sense mobile left town. At that point I went to bed and finished the paper the next morning. It seemed there was very little chance of putting together anything worth while under such circumstances.

Sleep has that funny way of messing with your mind. Many times even covering its own tracks and shrouding your memories in a haze of misconstrued perceptions, even totally hiding certain occurrences from recall. Many a time my mom has woken me up, or so she claims, talked to me, and had me respond, yet when she comes in to the room yelling fifteen minutes later and forces me out of bed, I truthfully have absolutely no recollection of ever being awake the first time. As well, about every third morning of high school, at around five after seven my mom or dad would loudly bang on my door because I wasn't awake yet. Positive I had set my alarm, I claimed it must not have gone off or that I just purely slept right through it, though the fact that the button had been moved to "off" indicates otherwise: that I probably simply turned the alarm off and fell back asleep so quickly no memory was ingrained. It just amazes me though; the evidence shows here that I must have been awake, making conscious actions and decisions, and yet, I can't remember them in the slightest-it's almost scary.

One particularly painful morning I had a semi-enlightening and revealing experience into this field. As my alarm pierced into my sleep, a sound which I've come to loathe so much it makes me jump even during the waking hours, I grudgingly turned it off. I was awake, but my eyes burned with fatigue; I just couldn't muster the will power to throw myself out of bed yet. I knew if I continued lying there though, even for a few seconds, I would run the risk of slipping back into the dream world. I battled to keep my head aloft at least, so as not to provide the comfort that would surely induce further slumber. This too, however was difficult. Then two visions appeared in my mind. One was of my friends asking me a question, beckoning me over. The other was an innate call to fix a bowl of cereal. It was literally a crapshoot, I was unable to comprehend which option would lead to what end. For some reason I chose the latter, knowing that somehow meant rolling out of bed. As I did so, I became completely awake, now easily able to see that my beckoning friends were just a continuation of the dream I'd just been having.

In this day and age, sleep almost seems to be a highly sought after commodity. A wondrous gift that must be earned. I'm able to justify my compulsive napping because I now consider it an efficient use of time. It's ironic now that I'm putting off sleep, declining the offer of that mirage laden narcotic of which I've become so fond, in the construction of this post. Yet at present it's okay. I haven't yet dreamt of using Choma to block UV rays for me or begun to wonder if dog money is worth seven times as much as human cash. Wait, wha-what is that? Why, why yes Mr. Clements, I would love to see you skinny dip.