INSOMNIA / Mourning

January 5, 2008 at 3:38 pm 1 comment

Céu

S. tells me he can´t sleep for a couple of days already and therefore he is taking sleeping pills. Before we part, he asks me if I think he will be able to sleep that night and, later, strangely, I am the one not being able to. I feel like calling him up at 4 in the morning to tell him just that.
I am too warm despite the room being too cold. In desperation, I take a sleeping pill. And then, unexpectedly, I dream of her.

I am walking down the stairs to finally see and understand her dead body. I am just one more in queue, I am not special.
I stop just before the entrance door, a second before stepping in. I redraw from the queue and lean against the corner of the house I grew up in, and raise my eyes to the sky. It´s blue.

I look down to the next person standing in line, who is looking and smiling back at me. A blank moment goes by, as I am not able to put two and two together. She is wearing a summer blouse that I´ve never seen her with before, looking at me and smiling quietly. I get back on my feet and hold her tight, a large embrace that gets tighter, and we laugh softly together. For a minute or two everything is in its right place until I realize that no one in line can see her, except for me.

I wake up.

Death doesn´t make any sense. My grandmother is simply not here anymore and there´s no point talking about how much I miss her. All that we shared and I miss is not communicable. It´s a very lonely feeling. I just can´t see the point in all this, in connecting with people, love them and watch them go. I am awake, and there´s no one to feed me with some comforting bullshit on why should love matter, despite the hurting. Maybe J. is right after all. Maybe it is best to be a stone, to go throughout life without any emotional attachments… I sit in bed, I will never sleep again, I´ve decided.

In my dream, when I held my grandmother in my arms, it seemed so real that I could almost smell her soft hair tickling my nose…

Entry filed under: Blogroll, Less Thinking, More Feeling. Tags: .

THE RED NOTEBOOK – Paul Auster DIGITAL killed the professional photographer

1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. the roommate  |  January 8, 2008 at 4:09 am

    after all it matters…
    dorme bem querida,
    deep, dreamless, curative, soft and silent sleep

    Reply

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