When Sleep is Not an Answer

The world has become a better place since the very last time I wrote, with the thesis done and dusted, you never have to see another picture of my working station again (yawns), or hear me ranting about the schedule of work and sleep and eat (bigger yawn). Too bad there is one more thing coming up, aka the THESIS DEFENSE.

No. I am not going to go into the details of that right now. I will leave all thesis talk for the last installment, which will happen soon enough without my urging and talking about it.

Instead, I want to tell you about today. It has been endless boredom after boredom for me since the thesis has left me. Life has lost all meaning. My day is now spent mainly in bed, horizontal. With the trusty laptop on my lap playing a video or movie of some sorts. And inevitably, I will be weeping. Not because of a sad story plot or a happy one. I just cry at movies. There must be something about the screen aspect ratio, or is it the way the credits seem to roll that make me shed precious tears. But yes. I cry. At all movies.

Now, the teary part of me begs to be explored on another day in another post. What I really came to tell you today was about this night-mare. Actually it is technically a day-mare that I had this afternoon when I was thoroughly bored with being bored and have decided to go take a sweet afternoon nap.

So I was there, lying on the bed and willing myself to enter dreamland to get some reprieve from the boredom of it all. I was in this delicate place between lucidity and sleep. And I was having this vision of being in this dark and grey place. My mood and heart was heavy and dreary. In my vision/day-mare sort of thing, I was at my parents place. There was the unmistakable rosewood furniture and the precious potted plant that my parents loved.

Nothing scary really about dreaming about your parents’ place. What is un-nerving is the way I was feeling in the day-mare. A certain depressive and aimless feeling plagued me. And I was walking around... slumped over and distant from reality. Gosh, it shook me to my core that I was feeling this way because I had nothing to do.

BAM WHAM

I forced myself to wake up and cook some 3^rd grade bolognaise, to pretend my life still had some shard of meaning left in it. That I am still useful for making lunch. Or washing dishes.

And I was happier.