There is a place between asleep and awake. A place where you’re still dreaming, but acutely aware of things going on around you. The day to day noises of home trickle into your psyche, your senses are stirring. You can smell the world around you, and feel the breeze from the window. But you’re not there, not part of that waking world, not part of blissful slumber.
That place. That halfway house between asleep and awake. That’s where the demons live.
Some would say they’re bad dreams. But dreams fritter away into the ethos witching a few minutes of waking. But not when you’re halfway awake. When your brain is preparing for the day. These nightmares are just real enough to seem true. Backed up by the solidity of the real world slowly coming into focus around you, they imprint like memories. When you do finally wake you find yourself wondering ‘did that just happen?’
Recently sleep has been very illusive to me. The halfway point is about as far as I get. I doze, in what should be blissful abandon. But alas, I’m plagued by demons. Demons of my worst fears. This morning, I was crushed by the illusion of my father dying. During my afternoon nap, I went through the traumatic birth of my baby. Alone and scared. Both times I woke in a blind panic and floods of tears. Both times the images plagued me for hours after. My mood today has been morose to say the least.
So now it’s late at night. The darkness has drawn in and everyone is calmly sleeping. Except me. I’m here writing to you. Can you do me a favour? If you see the sand man please ask him to hook me up with some nice dreams? Because right now my body doesn’t want to switch off. I can’t help it. Nobody wants to sleep when they know the demons are coming.