Insomnia is not funny. Other than getting to watch movies I haven't seen for fifteen years or so, there's no benefit I can find to the disorder. There's only so much of the news I can take, only so many bizarre websites to peruse and only so many books I can read. Yes, I can find no good reason for an inability to sleep when my body feels run down.
The fact that I can't shut my mind down is perplexing. Staring blankly at a darkened ceiling is extremely boring and frustrating, as is replaying the day's events over and over. Why is it then I am forced to suffer?
There are some who will remain nameless who would claim this is my karma. Others still prefer more poetic reasons and call the insomnia my albatross. Perhaps they who call it the strange dead bird are correct, as I sit here typing about the strangeness of it all to you.....the faithful reader.
I imagine my brain as lit Cloud City, a nerdish allusion to George Lucas' Star Wars films, where the planet is inhabited by humans and other space creatures in buildings high in the planet's sky. There are miles and miles of blue sky and warm clouds, occasional buildings interrupting the aesthetics of it all. Radio transmissions cross the sky from com link to com link, as do the synapses firing across my mind not allowing me to drift into a peaceful sleep.
And now my thoughts continue down memory lane, thinking of The Empire Strikes Back, admiring Han Solo for being frozen in carbon by Darth Vader. When I was younger I used to imagine that Solo would have gone insane while entrapped in the carbonite, but I was wrong. Han was able to sleep to the point of temporary blindness. How I long to be temporarily blinded after sleeping for a year or two. I imagine he was pretty hungry after being thawed though, but that really doesn't have anything to do with what I'm talking about here.
So, I'm hoping to drift off in a while. Maybe Darth Vader will visit me tonight and he and Boba Fett will allow me some time to rest.
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