Nightscapes and Dreamares.

It happens to me from time to time. Come to find out, it's been happening since before I had the ability to comprehend it.

According to dear old Da, as a child I had a tendency to fall into nightmares while seemingly wide-awake. He tells a story of sitting in a rocking chair, attempting to get me to sleep....

He was pretty sure I was awake at the time.

And then, all of a sudden, every muscle in my body tensed up. I looked over his shoulder, my eyes as wide as saucers.

I screamed, "Here it comes!"

Now, my Father is a logical man. He doesn't believe in things that go bump in the night. But that night, I actually spooked him. He was afraid to look over his shoulder.

He told me that story periodically for many years; usually when I was trying to avoid being embarrassed in front of a girl I was dating. It was his version of "naked baby on a bear-skin rug." I knew the story, and I can vaguely remember the nightmare, although the image I thought I saw that night changes with every thought of it.

What I didn't know was that for awhile, my Father thought I was mentally ill.

Not that it would surprise me. I have quirks that sometimes overcome every logical instinct I have.

Now, everybody has a little OCD in them; my tendencies lean toward not being able to tolerate dirty dishes, and my books have to be alphabetized by author, and sorted by publication year; I can't eat potato chips that are bent and twisted.

But I think there is something more.....because there are periods of time when it all becomes too much.

It starts with an insatiable desire for information of any kind. I will find myself in front of a computer, randomly typing subjects into Wikipedia. Reading history books. Stocking up on documentaries. Ordering books by the metric ton.

I can't turn the brain off.

And then, the flow of information becomes too much to bear, and I feel like I'm going to drown in a sea of a million voices, all asking my opinion.

And that's when the insomnia really begins.

And this happens about every six months.

It's been happening more and more as I've aged; and in the old days, I suppose I could poison myself into a fitful sleep, but those options are no longer open to me. I've tried pills, but they leave me a little groggy, and when I'm groggy I can't enjoy the thrill of my current employment.

I'm hip deep into the phase right now; and it's taken all I can muster just to write these few words; apparently, the thirst for knowledge that leads to drowning in it does not include the sequential sharing of the information.

And it makes me feel slight sad; like a glutton at a banquet when the table is bare. A kind of self-loathing that never seems to stay behind; in the circle that is my life, I know it's gonna come around again.

And sometimes, I just can't bear it.