It's been a while since the sleepwalking has taken over so completely. I am not talking about literal sleepwalking but a kind of dazed half-conscious numbness carried on throughout the waking day. Maybe it due to the music in my ears at All Times. I can't live without it right now. I only stop listening long enough to charge the internal battery of, what I consider to be one of, the greatest inventions of the 21st century. Luckily for me, it doesn't take long to recharge, and it takes a long time for the battery to run out too. I plan this downtime around showers, sleeping, talking to people when needed. I do turn it off when reading but that is only after a few pages of the words emotions blending with the music's emotions and I am forced to concentrate on one more than the other. The book doesn't always win. I guess this is my way of coping, or not coping. I suppose a person stuck in prison or who has fallen down an inescapable well might go through the same type of experience I have. Sometimes I have to turn the music down a little so I can hear my thoughts more clearly. Other times I turn it up really loud so I don't hear any thought at all, letting the music take over my mood. It is an instant gratification. It is hard to explain to you. I think that is what I am trying to do now. Bear with me. This sleepwalking probably looks to be dull and lifeless from an outside perspective but it is actually exciting and amazing. My mind is on overdrive. I am constantly creating songs in my head, lyrics, poems, stories, characters in my stories, conversations I would like to have; sometimes with people I haven't met yet. After so much time has passed in this state I normally spew it all out onto paper, electronic or otherwise. Trying to get this out through actual conversation only leaves all parties involved confused and frustrated.
I am that guy stuck in the bottom of the well. In another story I would be glad to be patiently resting at the bottom waiting for the walls to transform into another world while fine sand grains sift through my hands. I am not that guy. I am the guy who is stuck at the bottom of a different well, a well that is in the middle of a busy, population-choked city, who no one hears cry for help. I screamed for help some time ago but no one bothered to notice. Maybe my cries didn't come across as desperate as much as amused. Sometimes when I need help more than ever all I can do is laugh. My voice is weak now and it will take a long time to recover before I can start yelling for help again. In the meantime, I collect the rain that runs down the slick walls of my pseudo-prison and save it in my hat for when I need it most. I think it is rain... I hope to God it is rain. >Insert disgusted facial expression here<>
I have been here several times before and have always found a way out eventually. Waking from a dream to find myself in this reality completely. Dreaming that I am making my way though the labyrinth (usually by cutting holes through or climbing over the hedges). My place is not always in the form of a well by the way. It can be as vague as a fog that you can't escape, or as vivid as a four walled room with no door or windows (even a bottomless cage). Every otherworld has its advantages and disadvantages. I prefer the well mostly. Some of you might connect with that choice. I find it much easier to be forced to keep moving, sleeping less and thinking more. Otherwise I might fall asleep forever and never wake again or sleep through the most important part of my experience. I know I am capable of doing it too, just ask anyone who has witnessed my 48 plus hour sleeping spells and they will agree. So I am sleeping less and thinking more but I am thinking of things found in my subconscious mostly. I find it difficult to think of everyday mundane things for very long. I still go through the motions of trying to find a job, saying I love you and fuck you to the appropriate persons, taking a shower, eating food when needed; it is all autopilot. I keep the most important things out of my life while I am in this state. I don't want to half-ass something vital.
While I sit here watching my thoughts turn to font in the air above me and float away, my hands blindly caress the smooth rock or brick or whatever this well is lined with and find a small recess closer to the bottom. Its shape, in my minds eye, is that of binoculars. I carefully place my head in front of the hole and see dim light shining through. Why didn't I see this before now? It wasn't here before. Things like this happen all the time in a place so temporal, run by loose attention spans and even looser intentions. TV On The Radio is in my fixed view. "All your dreams are over now, all your wings have fallen down" But my dreams are not over and I didn't have wings to begin with. I can't use this shit... but I can't shake the feeling that the band is here for me, leading me to something, dropping clues to my next great moment. With an audible sigh, I lean back against the wall and hope for more rocks to rest on. I can no longer see the sky above. Sometimes the well is as straight as an arrow to the top and it can also appear twisted like a kiddy slide, sometimes it is very shallow as if I could jump to the top and other times it seems infinitely long. Right now it is just dark and I can't tell where the hell it leads or how far it is to the top. I suppose the rocks won't be appearing anytime soon. I am getting tired too. What to do? I return to the hole. "Let it free, let it fly... breaking down the walls of this cage. Intoxicated, aww so amazed" That sounds more like what I am looking for! ...I continue to watch... "Robots fucking in the middle of the Jay Z video, Robots fucking in the middle of a telecast with Tom Brokaw announcing his love for puppies, Pictures of Oprah Winfrey fucking robots for sale on EBay, ten dollars, twenty dollars, thirty dollars. Sold to the highest quitter" Now I am lost again. I am going to fall asleep here in this place for the first time. I will be sucked under the sand within an hour I estimate. I don't even mind right now. I need time to breathe fresh air and rest my mind. I need, I fucking hate to say it, reality. I lie on my back and rest my feet on the walls in front of me. The sand is conforming to the shape of my shoulders, my neck, my spine. I imagine this is how those TV commercial pillows feel and it feels great. The only part I am not looking forward to is when my face goes under. Hopefully I will be asleep by then.
I look up and see the stars again. Someone is up there looking down the well! The way the person is leaning over the rim, it almost looks like a mirror image of myself. Creepy. I hope you don't fall in. I am not the well-wisher (no pun intended) you might think. I just don't want to share my space with someone else right now. It might be difficult to sleep through this if someone is watching me. Now that I have thought about it I know I won't be able to sleep with someone watching me. Beat it! Can't someone slip into an unknown alternate reality in peace? "Can't someone slip into an unknown alternate reality in peace? Unless you have a rope, get the fuck outta here" The figure shrinks away. I wiggle my way back to the top of the sand pit, adding more time to fall asleep comfortably. I hear a faint sound coming from the top of the well, which seems to be only ten to twelve feet deep right now. It is the scraping sound of nylon against the drier surface above. So the fucker actually threw a rope down. People amaze me sometimes. When you least expect it, there's your wallet returned with everything intact. Everything except the money of course. I stand and grab the rope. I tug it to see if it is anchored properly somewhere up above. Too much slack, shit, and here comes the entire thing. The end of the rope has a piece of linen tied to it. On the linen, poorly written in lipstick, I noticed, it says "look in the hole again, fucker" and so I do. "...it's true, that there are roads left in both of our shoes but if the silence takes you then I hope it takes me too. So brown eyes I hold you near, cause you're the only song I want to hear. Melodies softly soaring through my atmosphere" Where Soul Meets Body, Ok I get it.
I am not going to get out this time. I lie back down on the soft sand. I have a tight grip on the rope thinking I might need it on the other side. Just in case, I tie it to my right wrist. I tip the hat to my mouth, drinking the water I collected, and then pull it over my head. The wetness is refreshing but not keeping me from sleep. I close my eyes and I'm already half dreaming of a childhood demon of mine only he isn't scary any longer. He is pitiful and weak. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. I slip into darkness, barely aware of the sand filling in around the corners of my mouth.
April 12th, 2007
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