Sleep Nostalgia

In the Night. (Blurb, quick summary)

Sleeping has always been a big event of my day.
I'm always so excited because I can hardly wait to see what world I land in that night. It's always such a treat to dream, It's my favourite part of life.
But when it comes to going to sleep it's almost like a ritual, I have a light turned on in some part of my room so I'm not totally submurged into the dark and most times I remember to turn off the tv before sleeping because the sound and just the fact it's on can fracture the lucid aspect in my dreams, making them less than solid. Other times I NEED to have something playing on Netflex otherwise the silence enhances my abilities, making every sound relevant and takes my mind on walks; It often passes by the thought of spiders crawling around under my covers or through my hair since it's happened more times than favourable, I'm currently having to actively be aware of a particular spider I called Henry that lived in a web by my window sill. I told him he could stay if he never moves from his spot, and he never did, even shed his skin and kept it there until recently disappearing just as I'd begun to safely trust him to stay put.
Of course.
But the terror of feeling him cross my flesh is a burn on my mind and I can't help but be over sensitive like a blind watch tower.

Sometimes I'll play soundtracks of the rain battering against a window or from outside a tent, I love the nostalgia it gives me. The feeling of warmth in the cold. I like to imagine myself curled up in a little makeshift home made from cardboard, it's just a big cardboard box turned side ways so the opening faces the alleyway in which it's in and I can see the rain fall and hit the colourless, cold concrete, making ripples in the puddles and I'm safely inches away, curled up in the comfiest duvet. I'm warm. But only just. That's the feeling. The feeling of saftey. The rain washing away all the fears and terrors from those caught in its showers, straight down the drain, and I'll watch it. I'll watch it run across the ground into it's holes.

When I was little, the rain was something you knew was coming because the smell would be so fierce, it was like a house on fire, you knew exactly what it was.
It fell like pebbles, but soft, like hail but not solid. And it all came down like a big bucket, there was no time to blink, so I'd dance and play with my eyes closed and chased the rivers it made in the street, the smell like phinocchio along with a dusty musk from the summer sun and the earth mixed with the crumbles that would rubble away from the buildings because that's just how old they are.

But one day, I decided not to play.
I took a big umbrella and put it down on the concrete pavement beside the door to my grandmothers house, which was where I lived at the time, just as I smelled the rain arrive. I curled up underneath it, twisting my arms around themselves and the fabric of my clothes and closed my eyes. They opened again as the rain fell, hitting the ground violently. The clicking sound coming from the drain bars in the ground as the water leaped off the metal into the abyss below.
The slight rumbling of the pipes outside our house as it serviced an all inclusive water slide to any little bug mighty enough to try it.
My guess is that it would definitely drown in that violently discarding tube which was 3 stories tall to match the house. It's dangerous cascades tumbling out the bottom into a guiltless puddle that simmered its way down the platform towards a ground it could fall down even lower.
But under my umbrella, it was dry. I, was dry. I felt warm despite being surrounded by all this cold and chaos, I felt peace.

I feel my heart elevate sometimes, when I tell myself "It's time to sleep."
It's like I'm scared. And most times out of ten, I try to find a root to the feeling, and I seem to pin it up on whatever thought I'm having in that explicit moment, which could example any of the following:

-My ex; I must be feeling scared about Love again.
-My future; I have to start thinking about university.
-My Self Worth.
-Am I giving enough attention to my pets?

This can spiral into an hour long discussion with myself that can easily loop and ultimately be a waste of time, since all it ends up doing to me is keep me up and put me in an overly critical place with myself.
But in other times, like now, I can realize that my thoughts have infact nothing to do with my elevated heart rate. Am I just scared to sleep?
Either way, my body's natural otherwise unatural reaction to the knowledge of the time to sleep is notable. It's an uncomfortable, noticeable jump of the heart. Like a baby's kick in her mother's belly.
I'm not pregnant, just so you overalyzers know, I just enjoy a good metaphor.

I, however, find that in whatever situation, the night just encourages me towards the corners of my mind that the day time just cannot reach. It urges me to create. It reminds me of the many things I have need doing though lazy to pursue in haste.
It reminds me of my values, and that although strong, I may be permitted to feel vulnerable and afraid with myself, I mean...Nobody's watching apart from my own Mind's eye and if I'm honest, It's the Mind's mouth that needs to have its tongue scrubbed with a big bar of soap. The foul repugnant gremlin that it is.

I hope you'll wish me luck into the world I'm about to enter, I always bring souvenirs in forms of stories though I can never find the words to tell them.
One day I'll crack the wall between them and perhaps, you'll be able to see just where I can take you.

Just like the clouds that brought dream lands to the children of the Far Away Tree, I shall one day bring to you clouds as far as the eye can see.