Thursday, November 08, 2007
In Which I Was So Close . . . Where's My Cigar? I was lying there, so close to sleep that I had begun having those surreal delusions of thought that almost made sense but were drifting towards the nonsense of dreams. Then Rob sneezed. Again. And again. Six. Maybe seven times. I turned over. I ignored that part of me that began to wonder if insomnia would now kick in. I counted on my lassitude to overtake me and then I began to fall again. Slowly sinking my way back towards that bliss of oblivion. And Rob got out of bed to go to the bathroom. He blew his nose before returning to bed. I turned over again. I felt like I was suffocating. Unable to breath. Sweating. Tired. And completely unable to fall asleep. It is almost 2am. In the past six days I've had insomnia three times, counting tonight, and had two doctor's appointments. Of course my vertigo is exacerbated as a result. I wish I could sleep. I cannot. I am going to find a book to read. Why not? I clearly have nothing better to do with my time. Sitting up and writing, unfortunately, is not an option. Too bad because I am way behind on my nano word count. Odds are tomorrow I will be too sick to try to write anything coherent. But who knows. Maybe I'll surprise myself. Aries Horoscope for week of November 8, 2007 Read these lines by Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai, translated by Chana Block and Stephen Mitchell: "A flock of sheep near the airport or a high voltage generator beside the orchard: these combinations open up my life like a wound, but they also heal it. That's why my feelings always come in twos." Draw inspiration from this passage. Rather than experiencing the riddles and contradictions of your life merely as painful schisms, think of them also as mysterious unifications.