Insomnia
Many
people are not privileged enough to fully live in the present moment.
I’m one of them.
I have been working overtime again and I guess, I
don’t even really care. It is not like anyone is waiting for me at home anyways.
I won’t even take the shortest route home tonight. Riding a pushbike at night
is probably one of the most relaxing and enjoyable activities I can think of.
In fact, from all the activities I can remember, cycling is the only activity
than allows me to immerse into a meditative state. Of course, there is also the
carefree empty-mindedness you have after a long night shift which I like to
call “premature enlightenment”. One gotta love the relaxing humming sound the
tires make on the freshly laid asphalt on Cejl. Combined with the smell of the
street after the rain on a warm day and nostalgic childhood memories, this has
to be one of the most satisfying sentiments there are.
After midnight, the streets are empty and you don’t
have to worry about cars and traffic lights preventing you from going all out
i.e. going full speed down the slope at the observatory and subsequently,
racing down the street to Mendlovo. Occasionally, one would encounter some
patrol cars and instinctively remove one of the earbuds to avoid an unpleasant
conversation with the law enforcement representatives. Last time I got busted
was two years ago in Oz for not wearing a helmet. I skillfully played the
ignorant-foreigner-card and managed to avoid a fine. In the Czech Republic, the
regulations don’t seem to be that strict, however, Brno cannot compete with
Perth or Melbourne in terms of bike-friendly roads.
I look at my phone and realize it’s already half past
eleven which is fine. On the other hand, my fridge is still empty and my only
option would be the 24/7 Tesco at Královo Pole. God bless the self-checkout. A
couple of water drops hit the plastic lenses of my glasses. The rain serves as
a reminder of the slight throbbing knee pain I have been feeling since the
mishap yesterday. I don’t want to brag but am actually quite skilled in the art
of falling down without sustaining major injuries. The first time was also on a
rainy night and involved high gear speeding and slippery tram tracks.
I lock my bike
outside as my paranoia kicks in and I realize that there is no efficient way of
locking the thing without getting at least one part stolen. You have probably experienced
that at least once - a locked bike missing the front wheel or the saddle. The
most expensive part is usually the frame itself, so there are not many options
left how to lock the pushy. Inside I take a look around. At this time, there
are not many people around, at least not during regular work days. As far as I
remember, I have always had trouble to fall asleep at night. Night dwellers
like me feel mostly awake and productive at night, and mainly useless in the
mornings till late afternoons.
One might ask what a person suffering from sleep
disorder can actually do at night, except cooking soap and running an
underground boxing club. To be honest, there are not many opportunities to do
certain activities at all. There are neither any swimming pools which run 24/7,
nor any other sports activities available at night. Some time ago, I was
jogging at Lužánky or went to watch the last movie at the cinema. Recently, I
feel tired. I lost all motivation to exercise and most of the time I just
repeat the same dumb activity which I perfected at work - spending nights
staring at my 17-inch desktop monitor. At least I do not expect different
results, Mr. Einstein.
What do I actually need? I am the pragmatic type. I
cannot remember if I ever had an efficient shopping experience without planning
ahead. I guess one can always take some bread. And if stick to the basics, like
milk and eggs, I will not end up going home empty-handed. I see a familiar face
at the self-checkout. The lady who seems to be in her late 40’s throws a bored
look at me. Not the most pleasant low-wage job I guess, but at least almost no
responsibility whatsoever.
It’s raining cats and dogs, my knee hurts again. I
cannot find the key to unlock my bike. I check my pockets and my backpack at
least five times. There it is, the familiar feeling of anxiety. At least, this
time, it is not the wallet. The common drawbacks of having not much sleep are
short attention span and low situational awareness. To my surprise, no one is in
the store any longer. I could swear I saw some customers like 15 minutes ago.
The lady at the self-checkout vanished as well. I’m getting more nervous than I
should. The fact that I hardly speak the local language and that I cannot
remember whether I have a spare key do not provide a boost in motivation
either. A sweep through the now empty store is without success and I’m outside
again staring at the dark empty sky. It is just a half-an-hour walk from here. I remember Hagakure and that there is something to be
learned from a rainstorm. The corners of
my mouth lift and I start walking.
In the blink of an eye I’m
unlocking the door to my apartment. “Tadaima!” No response. Sleep
mode. I hit the enter key and two seconds later I stare at my desktop. Let’s
check the messenger. The only green light is next to Simon’s name. Nerd,
figures. Obviously, he had the same idea and I read:
“Dude
wtf. no work today?” (1:07 a.m.)
We both don’t like small talk, so I type:
- “U
know it’s not exactly an intellectually stimulating job, got wire-cutters?” (1:08
a.m.)
- “Nope,
why?” (1:08 a.m.)
-“Gotta
steal my own bike.” (1:08 a.m.)
-“Lol...that’s
a good one. No, srsly why?” (1:08 a.m.)
- “Dude, I just told ya.” (1:09
a.m.)
- “Whatever Mr. troll. We both know that
after ur accident ur pushy was 86’d and scrapped.”
(1:10 a.m.)
Simon is misinformed, how would
he know.
The room is quite dark, and even
sort of gloomy. All I can see is the reflection of the framed photograph on the
wall. There are Simon and me and some other folks I hardly remember. I cannot
read the clock on the wall, even when squinting. Anyways, got to put the
groceries into the fridge. As I move downstairs, the pain gets more intense and
I can hardly grab the railing to regain balance. I live in one of those
two-story flats. The bed and the computer are located upstairs, kitchen and
bathroom are one the ground floor. When I grab the handle of the fridge door I
get this familiar feeling of being separated from my body, as if I watch myself
from the side. This body-soul-desync is followed by a surprise. I see an egg
carton and a milk box on the top shelf. I stopped putting things on the top
shelves a while ago and I cannot even remember why. Well, better safe than
sorry, I guess. I chuck another box of eggs and the fresh milk onto the bottom
shelf and close the door.
The notification light on my
phone is blinking. Who would’ve guessed, it‘s Simon. “Heya m8, I know ur still up. It’s Friday
n8 and there’s a DnB session @ Faval, lets meet there and talk about that
wire-cutters thing.” My clothes are damp and I
feel a little cold. Whatever I do next, a shower comes first. As usually, I am
sitting down in the shower. That way, it is more relaxing and water splashes
less around. There was another reason which I don’t remember. The warm water
eases up the muscles and the pain goes away. Simon is perhaps the only real
friend I have. I have known him since primary school. We have served together
and even ended up working in the same city. Finding work for expats is
relatively easy here, prerequisite being that your English proficiency is
somewhat half decent. Imagine how many people you can actually call in the
middle of the night and ask them for a favor or help. It’s not like I ever
really did it but I guess you get the gist. Sometimes we call for help and
don’t even realize it.
The temperature outside dropped
slightly. I am heading south along the old railway tracks next to the rivulet.
Despite the fog and persistent rain steadily drumming on my rain jacket visor
and my glasses, I can still make out the outlines of the Siemens factory across.
At the next bridge I should turn right, I guess, towards the center. The
oppressive and somewhat haunting atmosphere slowly disperses as I approach and
pass Vaňkovka. Suddenly, familiar anxiety raises up from within. The same
thought I had back at the department store invades my mind – where are all the
people? I pick up the pace and can’t actually believe what I am thinking. I am
mindful and aware of my feelings and thoughts and therefore able to control
them, am I not? When I am angry and I become aware of the feeling, I can accept
it and switch it off. Why can’t I simply switch off fear now, even if I realize
it’s just an emotion? Emotions come and go, they are not real. I am in control,
as they are merely a product of my mind. Recurring knee pain. How far is it to
the club?
I feel tension in my stomach when
I grab the door handle. It’s the perfect dance music and the familiar 420-smell
that actually make me open the door. A young man sits on a chair and is texting
someone. I take off my rain jacket and hand over a 200Kč note. I get 50 back and the event stamp, business as usual…
Intrusive lightning, raving
people on a mid-size dance floor. Simon is sitting in the left-hand corner
staring at his notebook. Another young man, seemingly intoxicated, is sitting
across from him, bending Simon’s ear. I approach the occupied table and don’t
really know what to do. Simon bends over the table and looks at his confused
neighbor, who stops talking immediately. “All right man, take a hike.” Simon continues staring at the young man, until the perplexed unwanted
guest gets up and stumbles towards the bar.
- “Sit down buddy, want a beer?”
- “Nah,
I’m good, you know I don’t like it.”
- “You
don’t know why we are here.” Gotta love
Simon, dude’s direct and straight to the point. “If you knew, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Panem
et circenses?” is the best I can come up with. Now,
I am experiencing a déjà vu.
One gotta admit, the drops are
beast. Who can blame the people who simply enjoy themselves, dance all night
and to live in the present moment. I can’t recall the last time I felt that, if
you can call that a feeling. Simon is not done:
-“We are here because you are not able
to let go. You have always been a try-hard. We both know that, don’t even try
to deny it. I have to admit that your level of denial is somewhat extraordinary”.
-“Are we going through the
accept-yourself-and-let-go-of-the-past-routine?”
- “Knowing ain't enough mate, you gotta apply
it. You can read a certain truth over and over again but as long as it does not
come from yourself and becomes your own truth, the book remains useless. I’m
not sure, whether your strategy to pretend to be someone else long enough,
until you actually become someone else, is bearing any fruit. In the end, the
only person who can save you from yourself is you. But I still think we are
making great progress.”
-“Is that so?
What about that double standards issue? To start with yourself…”
-“That’s right,
you got the point, but it does not apply to me any longer, and you know why.
And you also know the reason behind the extreme knee pain you are experiencing
right now.”
Shivers. Cold sweat running down my spine. Numbing
pain. I am afraid to look down but I know I have to.
-“Has been a
pleasure to see you again, mate. You know I really would like to help you more,
but I cannot. A projected memory can be only so powerful. As long as you do not
reach the next step all by yourself, we will be stuck in this loop for a while.
Don’t forget, it wasn’t your fault. I really hope we won’t see each other
again.”
The phantom pain eases off as I turn around.
The phone clock on the wheelchair indicates 4:19. Work
starts at 7.
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