It’s 4 A.M suddenly you wake up, the room is dark yet lit with a tint of green, from that feeble LED of your air conditioner. The Space is shrouded in serene calmness, breached only by occasional gusts of wind rattling against the window pane. Those wall hanging look irksome from an ominous tint of green. The familiar shapes seem to have morphed into something alien. Occasionally the ceiling is flooded with shades of yellow, lurking out from the top of the curtain, hiding you from the outside world. These yellow streaks paint distorted figurines that crisscross from one corner of the room to the other. Followed by a muffled but, distinct rumble moving away from you.
You close your eyes only to open them again as if taking a mental picture of this surreal moment. Your focus is now affixed to a strange, yet calming rhythmic throbbing. Trying to figure its source you hold your breath only to realize it was you; That Rhythm is your heart. You continue to listen to it, only to be disrupted, when you gasp for your breath.
Again you lie perfectly still gazing into the tints of green on the ceiling like a moth enticed by the flame, contemplating your existential existence. Slowly drifting into the nostalgia of past. Thinking of friends lost, goof-ups in school and screw-ups of college. While the resentments for opportunities lost, drown you into a faded, washed out and muffled flashback. A flashback that overwhelms your subconscious, drenching it with the realization of loss and pain. Your thought train is now off the rails. But, the calmness of night lures you back into the terms with reality, reassuring you of a brighter future. A future of which you are as weary as of the past but still as sure as of the present.
This turmoil of emotions has ignited a strange craving for food. It seems your mind is playing tricks and is somehow misinterpreting emotional void as metabolic need. Now you must jostle that owl off your shoulder and set out on a prowl to hunt for food. You fumble your way across the room into the pitch black hallway making your way to the kitchen off of the mental map. A strange itch accompanied by the butterflies in the stomach, from the anticipation that, you might run into that expensive vase in the hallway or maybe hit your head into a wall or something gains upon you. Finally, you reach the kitchen. Start by raiding the fridge and all the know stashes of motherly love. Only to settle for a stale piece of crap.
Now you are back in your cave, nibbling off that crap whilst fiddling with night lamp making funny shadows on the wall. All the mental commotion, anxiety and nostalgia have subsided. You are now struggling to get that tune out of your head, counting hours of sleep left before you have to wake up and face that torturous world again………zzzzzzzz….zzzzzzz.
Though darkness is evil, the darkness of night is not necessarily the one.
In fact, I think that it’s the darkness of night that wakes the subconscious.
Jostles your fear, giving way to courage.
After all, the millions of years of evolution were to help your ancient self, survive the hostility of night.