i feel like a cement mixer

or an ostrich peddler

or a scar eraser

or a dry eraser

or a gymnest teetering on/off a balance beam

the day falls indefinitely upon me and i feel its weight

sometimes i cave into it. sometimes i rebel against it

other times i don’t even know it’s there

i am weary

15 years of insomnia

15  years since my father died

i started to see this cognitive behavioral therapist who specifically treats insomnia. the first part of the treatment is to keep a sleep “diary” where I am actually entering data, not dreams, or psyche. Data on what time I go to bed, how long it takes me to fall asleep, how many times i awaken during the night, how many total minutes of awake time, how many total hours of sleep, ratings on a scale of 0 to 100 of how sleepy i feel during the day (as in, feeling like i’m about to nod off), rating on a scale of 1-100 on how fatigued I feel during the day (which is distinct from sleepiness.

And in the second part, i have been given a schedule of sleep. I am supposed to go to bed precisely at 12:30 a.m. and awaken at 7:00 a.m. No matter what. Today, I awakened at 7:15 a.m., but I stayed in bed until 9:15.

So i begin the day on a subversive note. I could not face the daytime. But now i must.


But now that the daytime has passed and I have had more time to ponder the data, I realize that it means absolutely nothing. what does it mean to be asleep? what does it mean to be awake?  i am more awake in my sleep than i am when i’m awake. on a scale of 1-100, i score 100 at existing somewhere between awake and asleep.

either awake or asleep, i am always half dreaming. Or fully dreaming one half of a dream. There’s no room for these details on the sleep diary form they have given me.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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