questioning zzz

I am bat­tling a con­tin­u­ous capri­cious dis­po­si­tion to­wards sleep.

Some­times I ab­hor the men­tal im­age of my body ly­ing still on a bed for hours. The feel­ing I have some time lat­er, af­ter I’ve moved my body from my bed to any­where else, is ut­ter con­fu­sion. I am a con­scious be­ing with a height­ened aware­ness of my sur­round­ings, de­vel­oped over many years, since my ear­ly child­hood, and yet, at times of high stress, there seems to be a small void in the play­back of my day.

Dreams are al­ways wel­come to my sub­con­scious and yet the in­ter­rup­tion of my con­scious­ness res­onates deeply in my thoughts. The hu­man brain and body need the process of sleep at the very least to func­tion and at the very most to thrive. I dis­like hav­ing my con­scious­ness in­ter­rupt­ed and I dis­like the idea of it.

The tool I ‘com­mand’ de­mands it­self to be aware of this in­ter­rup­tion, and feels neg­a­tive­ly to­wards such a ne­ces­si­ty. Hu­man be­ings are wired to sus­tain their life, liv­ing, but we as a so­ci­ety both pro­mote and ig­nore the time in­volved with the process of sleep. Do we need eight hours every night? We have cities and lights and less fear of the un­cer­tain­ty of the nights as our an­ces­tors had, and yet, we as a so­ci­ety say, get in­side, get into a bed, sleep for eight hours.

My mind says you can be do­ing. I in­stinc­tive­ly know to sleep when tired and to eat when hun­gry, but the time and place I live in has abun­dance in these ar­eas. Ex­ces­sive amounts of food and ex­ces­sive rec­om­men­da­tions of sleep­ing time. Ex­ces­sive amounts of ‘do­ing’ time, as well.

And even with this abun­dance we deny our­selves and oth­ers food and time for sleep. Ide­al­ly, I love be­ing a hu­man and would wish to ho­n­our my body and my life by giv­ing in to the de­sire to sleep when tired and the sus­te­nance I need when my body re­quires it, but there is near­ly al­ways some­thing get­ting in the way …

—blu

Flom­mist Blu is an enig­ma. A metaphor wrapped in an al­le­go­ry. ‘I am Jack’s colon. If I get can­cer, I kill Jack.’ Copy­right © 2015 mech­a­nizzm. All rights reserved. 

MOR D’ARTÍCULOS  MOR FLOMM !

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