Alarms

There is sits, the beautiful bedside buddy whose bent is to break your slumber. It exist as a tool to change you from being at peace and healing and, send you into action and self destruction.  (the very act of living is hurtful – not meant in a negative, over the top suicidal way – just your average aches and pains and sadnesses)

Alarms in general are for much more than that – “Sound the ALARM!” and such. Fire, Water, Bad Guys ( good guy too should you choose to call the door bell an alarm when operated by the pizza guy) Start, Stop and on and on and on.

This however is about the small electric powered one the lives mostly to my right in my room near my bed.  It consists of a lot of black plastic, a bit of clear composite material, some metals and maybe some paper and rubber. It uses red LED lights to communicate its digital form message to me – Hey Anthony, it is XX:XX:XX time of day or night.

It also has the ability to create sound and transmit sound it receives from other sources. It does one of these very well and the other not well at all. Unfortunately it does not do radio like it should. Where it lacks it makes up for in the grating, nerve racking buzz it can do in place of sweet music.

Sorry – this really had nothing to do with my electric, digital face clock. In fact, this is about and motivated by my clock NOT being involved at all. Just my head and how it dreams.

For the most part, the only dreams I can recall in any detail are about grocery shopping. Go figure. Makes no sense to me and even if dream readers could be trusted, I don’t want to ruin the joy of perfectly fresh and ripe fruits, garden fresh organic veggies and meat from the very best of everywhere at 0.39 per pound, no coupons needed as my pocket is full of cash!

This morning my dreams had nothing to do with food. Just sound. The last several months my sleeping location had been ruined by the obnoxious and inconsiderate behavior of others. My sleep restless, interrupted and often entered into with a level of anxiety and anticipation that did not lead to peaceful sleep.

Last-night was for some unknown reason, quite. Almost too quite. I found myself waking up to listen to the quite. “So, this is what a good night sleep should sound like!?!” Not exactly helpful on the rest front, waking to see what not being disturbed is like.

Then it happened, 4:30am, the sounds of the alarm clock on the right side night stand. I wake up, as intended, roll so my left hand can reach and – and – and – it is not on. No sound is coming from the clock.  Curious. I flip the switch anyway and the room is filled with static. Now I am sure it was not on.

I should at this time just go back to sleep and enjoy a work from home morning. That by the way means, get up anytime! Instead, I lie awake and wonder at why I am awake. How is it that the sound of my clock was so real in my noodle that it woke me and prompted me to attempt to turn it off? Again, I restlessly fall back asleep with the thought of my clock and my dream both firmly in place.

Over the next ninety minutes the same thing happens two more times!

I am up now – had 8 hours or quite for the first time in months and squandered it all by expecting the worse. Finally manifesting the anxiety into a dream so real it changed the way my morning began.

This was a pointless ramble – thank you for remaining in you seat.

A V