HYPNOS: I used to sleep. I used to sleep and dream. Dream about sheep. Just kidding — I never dream about sheep. Sheep are boring and expected. Still they are cuddly and innocuous little beings. Eating their grass. Baa-ing. Wandering around. Eating more grass. Laying down… what do you think a sheep thinks like?
Do you think sheep have the same kinds of problems people do only maybe their gradiation is smaller? Like sheep has blue, yellow, purple, but humans got chartreuse, goldenrod, amethyst. How do you think a god sees? It’s… indescribable. You see, to understand it would be touching divinity. It would mean that you’d have to die. Maybe then you could understand. The dead understand a lot of things that the living don’t.
There’s a seed in the heart of the forest down in South America that is supposed to be THE remedy for sleep. It’s been 21 days. Even for a god, I’m starting to feel as though something is off. As if I don’t understand myself anymore. I was looking for ways to get this seed here, but of course, it’s near to impossible.
First of all, you’d need a guide to even find it. But the guide doesn’t speak Spanish or Portuguese so you gotta find a guide for the guide who knows the language of deep within the forest. Second, the conditions have to be just right for the plant to flower and fruit, or so it’s indicated on these numerous websites that I’ve bookmarked. Apparently it’s a really stinky kind of flower that attracts the worst kind of bugs.
I’m afraid of bites… Well, I suppose that’s obvious though…
“Don’t let the bed bugs bite…”
I can feel the world’s people go to bed. And I’m going insane. People tell me “just go to bed,” but I can’t go to bed! I’m racing once I’m in there. Ready to go. Better than coffee. Better than any kind of drug. I’m like thinking a million things a moment. I have all these ideas like toaster with a side container to make eggs. Dog socks. A left-handed violin. Shoes that clean themselves. Jackets that turn into seat cushions. I could go on forever.
I could go on forever.
I need to sleep. The dreams do something with all these thoughts. The dreams know how to sort it out. The dreams point the direction.
And I stop worrying.
I enjoy my day.
I remember what it’s like to laugh.
And the deepness of an instant.
I see me again.
When I dream.
I miss dreaming.