In Continuum.

A Nightly Affair

(I came up with the following entries in the middle of the night, unable to sleep and unable to stay awake all at the same time. So pardon me if I do not make any sense beyond this point. In fact, I might be not making sense to you already.)

Dilemma attacked my wakeful slumber last night, and it was early on in the attempt of trying to sleep. It was a little after three in the morning and I was unable to sleep, as you may already know. There was a dilemma between waking up to write a blog entry, or to continue the attempt of trying to fall asleep. As some of you may already know, writing tops the priority charts in my mind, and if I have a choice between writing and sleeping, I'd go for writing any day. But of course, if my exhaustion is going to affect the quality of the material, then sleeping it is. In fact, sleeping is only my second favorite thing to do in the whole world right after writing. Of course, there used to be a time when I neglected my sleep and fell in love. But that was too long ago, too long ago to be mentioned at all.

If it is possible for a man to fall in love with the night, then I sure as hell did last night when the world was quiet and the night was young. They say that any hour after the midnight is the so-called 'Witching Hour', when witches, demons and other supernatural creatures would emerge from the underworld and roam ours. As a child, I believed these myths and legends, and would hide myself in the safety of my blankets in fear of the ghosts and spirits. I later realized that they were merely stories told by parents to get their child to sleep before midnight, and that the only reason why the wee-hours of the morning are known as the Witching Hour is because of the silence. But truly, nothing is better than the serenity of the morning. Nothing at all.

If I am given a choice to the ability to fall asleep, I'd rather mother nature to take that away. But of course, it must be provided that I will not feel any sense of exhaustion afterwards, nor will the power of dreaming leave me. I shall be able to fall asleep whenever I want, wherever I want, and not have the timings be controlled by my exhaustion. There are just too many things to do in the waking hours of the day, and for me there usually isn't enough time at all. Twenty-four pathetic hours aren't enough to accomplish what I feel like doing everyday, and secretly I harbor a wish for the world to spin just a little bit slower. Maybe an hour or two, I'm sure the other creatures in the world wouldn't mind, right? I just want to keep writing and writing, and never to stop for sleep whatsoever. But when I ran out of ideas, I would go to bed on my own accord, and dream of the wildest things in the world.

I noticed, as the night grows deeper, the layers of sounds become lesser and lesser. In the day, on top of the sound of the fan, there is the sound of the traffic downstairs. On top of that, the sound of the construction still going on on the other end of the estate. And on top of that, the sound of my family members wandering the corridors of the house, busying themselves with everyday routines. And of course, not to mention the birds and the dogs, the sound of my own computer whirling away. But at night, things become different. I turned off my fan despite the stifling heat for a few minutes, and all I heard was: Nothing. The soundtrack of the world was reduced to this deadly silence, and there I was immersed amidst it all, smelling, tasting, hearing, seeing and feeling the senses all at the same time.

The moon looked like a glowing sphere inside a murky water last night, just before the rain came a few hours later. It was as if somebody accidentally left it in the waters, and the turbulence of the fall swept up the mud and dirt from the riverbed, forming clouds of dust all around the illuminated sphere. I forgot the look of such a beautiful moon, and it is only the first of the month of May. Imagine what it'd be like in two weeks' time, that'd be quite a spectacle wouldn't it?

I can relate to the moon, because of how neglected it is compared to his cousin: The Sun. You see, the sun dominates the skies and was worshiped by the ancient Egyptians. Humans treat the sun as the cue to begin our days, and our cues to start our relaxation when the sun disappears. Humans also look forward to every sunrise to admire its beauty, and to every sunset to silently mourn for the temporary loss of grace. Everything just looks brighter, and more colorful in the light of the sun, don't they? The flowers look prettier, the corners of the world look less menacing, and there always seems to be a sense of hope in the light of the sun. Every since the dawn of men, we have always treated the sun as a symbol of light, hope, and anything else in life with utmost importance. But what about the moon? Just, what about it?

It's sad to see that when the moon finally gets to display her grace, everybody decides to go to sleep. When it is at its peak at night, people would be too busy with their computers, television shows and book. That is because we do not feel the presence of the moon at all unlike the sun. You never hear somebody go," Oh my, the moon is too hot tonight", or "Oh the moon is up, let's go to the beach". We seldom take the moon as a cue to do anything, and it is almost always related to the more menacing things in stories created by us humans. Vampires and werewolves, all related one way or another to the moon. How many evil creatures draw their powers from the sun? Think about it.

So there she is every night, desperate borrowing some of sun's light in hope to be treated the same, to be admired at and to be loved. But only a small pocket of people in this world would admire her beauty at night, and most of the time their attention would stray to the stars all around. Nobody cares about the moon, and every night it would retreat into the West in way of the Sun. Oh, the over-rated sun, the proud sun, lord of the skies. Where is the moon now? It is hiding on the other side of the world, still trying to be loved, to be appreciated. It is a twenty-four hour circle of failure for her, and it never gives up. Never.

You see, the night is a much better time of a day than the rest of it. Every night, I have an affair with the morning hours, and I feel good to be in it. My mother always says that staying up late is bad for the organs, especially the liver. But then again, love make us do stupid things don't they? Sometimes the right, sometimes the wrong. But always, in the name of love, nothing matters anymore. How hopelessly romantic we humans are, how forgiving when it comes to love. I wonder when this so-called 'love' will spell the destruction of ourselves.

But until then, I still have the moon to love every night, and of course, the silence. Always, the silence.