I sleep very badly. Sometimes, I take a mild sleeping-pill. And sometimes it works – but then it leaves me half-wonky when I wake up. If I cannot sleep I stay up late reading. Then I fall asleep in my chair and the rest of the night is ruined. It is odd, no matter how tired I may be, just a few minutes sleep – sitting down or standing up – and the urge to sleep is banished though I do not feel refreshed.
If I succeed in falling asleep in a dignified fashion I dream. I know I dream because when I wake up I can visualise in my head a grey place that evanesces like early morning fog and then I cannot remember what it was all about.
Sometimes though I rise into half-wakefulness and I think – it is just a dream, I know I am dreaming. This state of half-wakefulness allows me to make an impression of the dream in my mind. It is a staccato impression, like an old black-and-white film. At first, I feel a certain relief. In my dream, I am struggling uphill – but the effort is too much. I cannot make it to the top though I have no notion of where the top is, or what lies beyond it. I slip back constantly. My legs are so heavy I can hardly lift them; there seems to be a force that pins them to the ground. Then my relief gives way to a realisation of futility. Or I lose my wallet and I am dominated by panic – and in a state of half-wakefulness I tell myself it is just a dream. I know it is just a dream. Then my relief gives way to a realisation of irreparable loss. And now I can feel my primitive tongue in my mouth and I am swallowing. I take some food into my mouth and I can swallow it. And I am so proud. I smile at the people around me as if to say – see what I can do now. I can talk as well! My speech is slow and ponderous – but I am talking with no effort and people can understand me. I feel so good. I am sure it has happened. I can talk and eat! And it is so sudden. Then I am fully awake and I realise it was just a dream. I do not feel relief, just a numbing disappointment.
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