My brain, big and cumbersome, woke me up this morning without my permission. It does not rouse me like my mother with hot tea and delicious home-made rusks but rather with a cold bucket of worrying water. I wake with a start of emotion that makes my heart beat fast and at first I think that it is because I am excited about something but then realise that it is just my master, my brain that needs me to carry out some task that I have no interest in doing at this time of the morning. Today my mind made me wake up two and a half hours before the alarm with an already prepared introduction and conclusion for my politics essay that is due tomorrow. This answers my question on why I barley dream and if I do it feels as if my brain wants to pack all the dreams it took away into one crazy story. This is beside the point, because my primary concern is what my brain gets up to while I am asleep, why it urgently shakes me awake to start on a project as if it cannot trust me to do it myself in the hours when I am awake. So this morning found me leaning blindly forward, sleep still caking my eyes together, to grab my laptop and start fervently typing while my brain walked importantly around the room dictating what I should write like a president does to her secretary. I feel as if I exist purely to serve my brain, that I am a limp vessel with no emotion except to jump to attention when my brain snaps its fingers. Help me!
No comments:
Post a Comment