Lights of the City

lights1.jpgThe Goddess Insomnia takes many forms: she may tease mercilessly as you toss and turn, or torture you gleefully as you lie perfectly still, hoping in vain to fade into slumber. Either way you’re mired between sleeping and rising.

This morning I danced again with that goddess, my mind churning enough to keep my body from slipping into deep sleep and finding myself at that pivotal moment: too close to wake-up time yet too far from going back to sleep. So I let my mind wander, hoping my loosed imagination would be the mental equivalent of reading a book that usually invites drowsiness and the blessing of deep sleep.

Lying in my low-profile platform bed (which gives me an extra sense of space this small apartment bedroom lacks), my mind wandered the room looking for distractions. Even though it’s nearly pitch dark, the lights from my geek life surround me. I feel as though I’m lying in a low valley bounded by the lights of houses adorning the hills around me. Across from me up high I imagine the lights to be coming through house windows of the bourgeoisie who also cannot sleep and are up reading, doing crossword puzzles, or simply staring down at me in the valley. I know in reality these lights are my Terk FM antenna, cable modem, and wireless router sitting on top of my armoire. The two network devices provide an animated display as their lights blink on and off, sometimes in a rhythmic pulsation and other times in a staccato frenzy. But this morning they are instead the rich and famous living the good life in the high hills.

To my left on a much lower hill are lights emanating from houses of the proletariat, up early to put in extra effort towards their life-long quest to become the bourgeoisie, yet destined to live out their lives falling short of those lofty expectations. Of course these are really the power lights from my PC speakers, laptop and its docking station, all sitting on my desk.

There are other lights in the room as well, but by the time I notice them the illusion of the bourgeoisie and the proletariat have faded. I’m left wondering this early morning how I ever manage sleeping with so many lights on in my room. But their myriad of colors are not bright and I usually don’t notice them. Why I laid there and imagined this valley and surrounding hills this morning I know not, but an idle mind rests only so long so up I went in search of paper and coffee to jump-start another day, albeit a few hours earlier than usual. Perhaps for some unknown reason I’m channeling Marx’s proletariat and thinking these few extra hours of writing might push me that much closer to the coveted lifestyle of the bourgeoisie. Or not, but I’m up anyway so might as well write something.

2 Responses

  1. Dude, you *so* need to get a life! LOL

    Seriously, this reminds me of the end of *The Great Gatsby* when Nick Carraway scans the Long Island shore, imagines Jay Gatsby pining for the green light that marks Daisy Buchanan’s house, then imagines the immigrants who looked with hope toward this same landscape, “the fresh, green breast of the New World.”

    Your rhapsody is kinda sorta the same and Fitzgerald’s…then again, maybe not. Whatevah. 😉

  2. I had insomnia yesterday and all she did was make me write inane comments on a forum.

    Sigh. “Fickle as a woman.”

Comments are closed.

Back to Top
%d bloggers like this: