Waking up is hard.
Every 12 hours or so, our bodies need to recharge. Our sense of self takes a back seat. We try to escape consciousness all the time, be it by using substances, food, or by succumbing to the unavoidable allure of social media. But when we sleep, we do not think, we are knocked out, gone. It might feel like an instant or like eternity, we might remember a dream, we might not. But eventually, we all awake to the reality of our lives.
In a darkened room, sun rays peek through the blinds. He awakes to nothing. His body is heavy, turning and tossing, this feels wrong. There is a pervasive sense of remaining, of not wanting to move. An invisible force holds him down. Anything beyond slight posture adjustments seems unachievable.
What is supposed to be the start of a new day turns into a living nightmare. He drifts in and out of consciousness. When he does finally push to move his body to an upright position, hours have passed and his brain is drained. All the energy accumulated during sleep was spent fighting gravity.
He drags himself through his day, taking every opportunity to numb the pain. Binging on a frozen Pop-Tard or the newest chick flick, it does not matter. Finally, he drifts back into a deep slumber, only to experience it all over again.
This invisible force is trying to protect him from reality. There is no need to ever get up again. What he needs to survive and fulfill his biological destiny can be brought right to him.
Everything that is outside hurts, there are obstacles at every turn, the resistance, it’s cold, he’s not in control. In here, within the vast mountain ranges of his bedsheets, he is the master, a space so serene and muted that nothing ever happens. He is safe.
