August 27, 2009

When I Can't Sleep

The wind chimes are singing their off kilter song. The coyotes are loud and sound like they are laughing.

I lost two hours and thirty minutes of my life. Erased. A black hole where there was no comprehension of my existence. I have a hard time thinking that there was nothing in my mind, only that cold, quiet darkness. Was there at least one dream?

Leading to the surgery I dreamt in vivid color, exact detail. I was stood up by a ten year old boy in a parking lot, his hands holding a red Swiss Army knife. I can see the locks on the door as the police officer secured him. I purchased baby clothes for a friend, not knowing the sex of the child. Soft green and yellow.

Was this close to cramming for an exam?

I have had a troublesome few weeks. Maybe this not sleeping is a culmination of all these things rattling around in my sleep deprived mind.

A dear friend left his wife recently. A story I may tell more of later. But my own understanding of sacrifice, of destiny, of loss and longing have all been shaken.

And then there is the pain. I wish that old woman would quit gnawing on my body like a chicken bone. Let me free already. Push away and let the wind chimes sing me to sleep.

And I miss you. I miss you. Fragile as I am, it's hard to not. Everything feels more empty. Silent. Or is that the witching hour talking?

Send me peace. Make the laughing dogs rest.