31
I wake to the sound of a moan by my left ear. It’s the usual night-time shtick; I was sinking into a half-sleep, accompanied by the sounds of tinnitus and the CPAP machine hissing when this roused me. This happens so often it’s become the norm. It used to scare me, until I started dismissing the experiences as hypnagogic hallucinations – there: classifiable, safe, and unimportant. But some of them shake me – like this one. And the reason is it sounds so much like something occupying physical space in my everyday world, rather than some projection of an overactive subconscious kicking it up as my logical mind tries to…
30
I lay awake, sinking into the typical nightly routine. Thoughts. Scrambled. Different streams that intermingle and grow muddy. Even though my thinking has always been manic, I used to be so disciplined. I could direct my focus. But either my brain doesn’t have the same capacity it used to, or I have much more to try to keep ordered, or it’s a combination of both and all that remains is a tired sort of anarchy. I used to think lots more about my writing. That would override everything else. Narrative would write itself in my head. But that voice is softer now. Or perhaps it’s not as insistent, or zealous.…