To remember all this took only about a second and, after the vivid memory faded I closed my window and sat down on my bed, all the while still looking at my rapidly melting snowflake. I'm not really sure if Ms R's metaphor did anything for anyone, possibly it only succeeded in breaking the tension of a first day, but right then, in that moment, I felt her looking at me, demanding that I be me, that I be unique, insisting that to be successful on stage you had to learn the art of being present in every single moment. Living solely for that moment.
Without warning I felt the immense pressure in my chest, the betraying welling of tears, the bitter pain of a cry ripping its way up my throat. I wondered at the sudden urgency of my emotions. The force of one silly memory. I realized I was sad for myself. I had been waiting for you, H. to come make me happy, I'd been living in my dream world, caught up in the fascination of the barren lands of sleeplessness.
On impulse I licked the melted snowflake from my finger, wrapped myself in my duvet and fell into one of the most restful sleeps I've had in a long while. I woke with the taste of snowflake on my tongue and the tingling of Christmas in my bones.
Merry Christmas Eve everyone.
Songs of a Girl:
Samskeyti by Sigur Ros
*I don't actually think I'm an insomniac, or not in the long-suffering-don't-sleep-at-ALL sense of the word, I view my recent predicament as a slow spiral into beginner insomnia.
**I've started noticing things such as the way light creeps into and diffuses a dark room, the pitch of drunken teenagers as they stumble below my window, the reverberating hum of my kittens contentment, and, most acutely, the piercing silence after I have unplugged all the lights, radios, phones etc. from my room and the high almost tintinnabulic sound of the dormant electricity is extinguished.
***Lately I have been dreaming-that is when I fall asleep, which is becoming less and less frequent-about you, H. I don't dream dirty things, or angelic wedding type things, really all I dream are everyday things. Small occurrences, little blips of life, but with one very large difference. You, H. are there. You will hold me, or laugh with me, touch my cheek or start the car. In some ways I find this dreams a lot more saddening than if I was simply dreaming of very naughty encounters or extremely pleasing foreplay, see the dreams I'm dreaming are exposing a much deeper need and dread.
+Oh that was a decent amount of time ago.