I could not sleep, so I started looking for something I could think about – to use my time pleasantly while I was still conscious so to speak. It needed to be something that would not alarm me neither excite me too much. A charming flow of images about something that did not per definition involve nor exclude me.
Like when you are dreaming about flying and you are emerged in the sensation of drifting as a feather in the sky, not realizing even for a moment that it is you whom this is happening to: the flying just is.
But I kept bumping into images of my day, the news, the past, the future. If only I could get up and walk for a while, then they would disappear for sure.
I opened the front door, crossed the street and followed the dark green canal which curves all around town, bent off after a while and entered the park which looked like a wood; the dense foliage of the trees closed the view on the night sky, only some bits of black sky and here and there a tiny sparkle were visible. I took a look at the ghostly white ducks at the lake with their heads tucked away backwards and then walked on, crossed the wooden bridge and got on to the street.
There were no people, no cars, only lanterns.
It was extremely silent.
Suddenly I realized that I was walking with a firm energetic pace in my head. Everything else up there had evaporated and I had melted together with the rhythm of my pace.
I had been walking without noticing it, the walking just was.
But now I had to walk all the way back. A feeling of tremendous tiredness pulled over me like a heavy blanket and I could hardly keep my eyes open.
But only when I crossed the threshold of my bedroom again, I allowed myself to close them and finally walk off into the realm of dreams.
(1) Hariadhi (Own work) [GFDL or CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons, url
(2) CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons, url
(3) SFloridaMusic [CC0 1.0], via Wikimedia Commons, url
(4) Asierog [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons, url
(5) Vincent van Gogh [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, url