Staying up Late

It's 4:23 Los Angeles time or 3:23, or however you care to look at it, as I write this and who knows what time it'll be when I finish. It's been a while since I've written one of these darned things and well... you get the drill. I was just about to pack it up for the night when I was struck by a couple of things. Minor observations, some of them paradoxical thoughts...

The first is that I was talking to my mom earlier to day and she asked me if I'd been getting to bed late. I then was asked the same question, round about 12:30 am, by a friend... In my conversation with my mom she spoke about how she'd been reading my blog and remarked on how I hadn't written in a while. I mean to, mom, I really do.

Now, I was just about to hit the sack and the thought struck me. I don't like going to bed. Although, I do LOVE to dream. Now I'm hit with another remembrance of a conversation I had earlier with, yet, another friend about vivid and lucid dreams. All of these points brought up by other people.

I tend to go to bed really late and wake up really late as well. I don't, for whatever reason, like going to bed. I don't want to miss anything... the problem is that my dreams are so real. Sometimes I wake up sad because I miss my dream reality. In some dreams I can fly. Do you have any idea what it feels like to really fly and then find out that you're grounded in reality? I guess that feeling has something to do with proprioception.

So, I fly in my sleep. While sleeping, in reality: I also talk, walk, and the scary thing is that I sometimes fight in my sleep. I've woken up on top of my bed or in the middle of my room ready to fight imaginary enemies before... It's scary because when I wake up I usually feel dazed and then embarassed or ashamed for not knowing where I am. It's weird.

Needless to say but I'll say it anyway, I am not a morning person. I try to be but I'm a Grump. What a great word for how I feel sometimes. I wake up and I'm not happy. I suppose you can say that this may have had a full hand in why I chose to become a person who works at night. The morning time is the lowest part of my day. You think that'd be the inverse... but sometimes I just wake up sad and I have to spend a good deal of time fighting it off. Maybe that's what I'm trying to punch away when I awake in the middle of my room.

I blame my dreams... perhaps my sadness is just Freddy Kruger being subtle. I don't know what he wants from me. My parents weren't involved in that mess... right mom?

Sometimes, when I think of it, I view my dreams as another reality where nothing is ever the same... and when you think of it doesn't it seem as though that would be the perfect alternate reality to this one? My immediate plan is to get a notebook and keep a dream journal. Mayhaps it'll be one of those flip-top ones that reporters and detectives use so I can further investigate this other reality. If I come up with anything good I'll report back to you, here. If I don't come back with anything... well, I guess it's because I've dissappeared into that other, cooler reality. It's 5:01 now,
or then,
Chris

Before I go: I used to tell my mom, when I was little, how sleeping is like time travelling. If you stay awake the night takes longer to turn into morning but when you sleep it seems like only a few moments have passed. So by staying awake you're actually living longer... I don't know what that means but even as a youngster I sounded like a raving lunatic. It's late... I have to get to bed.