Tossing and Tortured 'Till Dawn

I come back to you now, at the turn of the tide.

Monday, February 04, 2008

A Week Went Where? Snoozing into far off tales.

Has it really been a week (minus a day and a half, I suppose) since We Last Left Our Heroes?

Today, straight from the gun, I'm going to bring up a Pet Peeve that's been bothering me since probably forever: The Snooze button. Who invented this thing? Ten minutes is JUUUUSST enough time to begin to drift off to sleep, only to have it shattered again.

Now perhaps for some people this is encouragement to get their lazy butts out of bed, but for Yours Truly, it's some kind of twilight zone moment. There is this place between consciousness and sleep which I am convinced is the root cause of all terror and all creativity.

If I haven't woken up after the first time the sucker goes off, it's going to take five to ten. In that space of an hour or so, I will turn off the alarm half a dozen times without consciously realizing I'm doing so. Yes, I moved the alarm to the other side of the bedroom, but that's not good enough: I guess I can almost sleepwalk over to it. At least, sleep-lean.

This morning, I dreamt of an eerie night on a house in a quiet beachfront town. There had been a murder, and I knew something, but didn't want the police to find out. I tried to skulk about the town to track down some more information. I have no idea who my character was: I rarely play Yours Truly in the dreams that I can recall. Although we never got to the end, it felt like some sort of H.P. Lovecraft story. That's sort of cool, but has nothing to do with getting out of bed, which I did with a sharp intake of breath at 7:40 am.

Now, one could also say that you oughtn't need an alarm clock to get out of bed if you get enough sleep, blah blah blah, but let me assure you that if some days you must wake up for work at 3:00 in the morning, and others you do not get home until eleven thirty at night, it's not going to work like that.

I'd love to keep an effective dream journal of all this stuff, but part of the reason it inspires so much fear is how fleeting it all is. Is this what it feels like to go completely crazy? Searching in my own mind for answers contained therein but completely obscured by and rapidly sinking into some eldritch mental ooze is about the oddest thing I've experienced.

Some days, when awake, I feel a little chill, a twinge of what might offhandedly be called déjà vu, accompanied by a warping, tinny conversion of all the world's sounds. It's as if I'm listening to a faraway land on a old transistor radio, the frame rate of my eyes either seems to accelerate or drop dramatically, and the night (for this is always at night) feels absolutely strange.

Yes, really.

I just might be inclined to talk a little more about this, but I'll leave it by saying that, first of all, the more I train, the less strangeness interrupts my days. I suppose even my mind gets tired.

Finally, this is why my weblog is titled "Tossing and Tortured 'Till Dawn:" I began by attempting, usually with great futility, at typing out the strange days that posessed my life before I began training for bike racing.


  • At 9:27 PM , Blogger STOKED I AM said...

    I especially don't want a dream analyst to tell me what it meant when OAD and I both dreamed about bike racing (not tandem racing) in the same night....something I almost never do....


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