"...what dreams may come..."

"Dusk Over Central Park" (2009)

I have come to the firm conclusion that my physiology, whether I like it or not, is that of a nocturnal animal. No matter what I try, no matter how many attempts I make at slumber, there never seems to be a point where I can just fall asleep unless it is on the verge of the morning. This has been something I've grappled with since I was in high school, and the entire fiasco has lasted until now.

This is not a real problem for me, per se, but it does create weird daytime delusions in my mind when I am not fully rested. Bear in mind that I work and go to school, and I also am quite strict with both being early and never missing a class/shift. This means that I fight the plague of insomnia throughout the night, get a few winks, and then am up with the birds and worms and all the 9-5 motorists and ready to tackle another long day. Usually a few days like this will pass before my body and brain cannot handle it anymore and I just pass out when I hit my bed at the end of the day. Then I sleep, dream some bizarre visions of who-knows-what, and feel rested until my next bout of extreme fatigue. This is not healthy, I know, but it has been my way for as far back as I can remember and I have learned to embrace it.

This type of schedule has made me realize that there are two times in a day that are surreal and magical. The first is dusk. When the world begins to slow down, especially in the winter months when the sun sets earlier, everything is painted in colors that appear both warm and frozen. The streetlights turn on at their own intervals, the smoke from fireplaces cut through the air, and everything comes to a state of rest. This is my favorite time of day, as it is the first sign of all the possibilities of the night.

"Daybreak in Suburbia" (2011)

The second time is daybreak or, rather, just before the sun makes its first appearance. The sky becomes a deep gradient of purples and dark blues that slowly shift to lighter tones as each minute passes. The world wakes, the birds chirp incessantly, coffee pots begin running throughout suburbia, drinkers are finding their way to their beds, and all seems quiet and holy for a time. It passes, of course, and the bustle of life begins as it does each and every day after this time. It is interesting to be awake and present for the sun's descent and eventual ascent. It creates an interesting feeling to see both of these events happen within several hours of each other.

Last night I was up for many hours, and awoke early for a meeting that never wound up happening. I wound up staying in my room most of the day, writing and neglecting the sun (which is warmer than usual for January). Now I am awake, awaiting a haircut, and then off to work until after midnight. Tomorrow I must be up at 7. This is how it goes, day in and day out, and the sun rises and sets and sometimes we are there to see it, and sometimes we aren't, and sometimes we see both.