It is very late, because I thought I'd finish Nighthawks this evening. I successfully did so, then decided that I wanted to write about it while it was fresh in my head, so I did that also. Now it is 1.15am and I haven't written this, so here I am.
I really should probably make an effort to go to bed earlier. I find it enormously challenging to get up every morning. It's a weird sort of… dread of what the day holds. Not because I'm actually literally anticipating anything terrible happening, but just because being in bed feels warm and safe and nice, and I often wake up in the morning having been in the middle of a pleasant dream that I'd like to go back to.
I know I can't just go back to a dream by snoozing my alarm and closing my eyes, of course, but my body still tries. Oh, heavens, it tries. It resists with every fibre of its being. It wants to disappear into whatever other dimension we go into when we dream, and leave this world behind, if only for an hour or two. Even though it's just had a good eight hours or so of being able to do exactly that.
It's strange, really, isn't it? We sleep every night, and most of us get roughly the amount of sleep we're supposed to get. So why is it so easy, of a morning, to fall into a pattern where you just want to keep sleeping? I love sleeping. I love what my brain does while I sleep. Dreams are fascinating, though I know not everyone enjoys hearing about them. I find them interesting, though, and often want to cling onto them after I know it's time to haul myself out of bed, make some breakfast and set about the day's business.
I dunno. It's probably just one of those things where you have to get yourself into a healthy and productive routine… and perhaps determine your own circadian rhythm, too. Oddly enough, I find myself more awake if I have to get up to have a wee at, like, 6am, than I do when my alarm goes off at 8. Maybe I should just start getting up at 6, have that wee and then stay up.
But then bed is warm and nice and comfy, and deliberately depriving myself of two hours in there feels like such a waste somehow.
I don't really know what I'm talking about any more. That's probably a good signal that I should save this post, scribble some stupid doodle to go at the top of it, and then actually go to bed. I am borderline delirious, but I have no regrets. I really enjoyed the end of Nighthawks, and I really enjoyed writing about it. Please go read my thing about Nighthawks, then buy and play Nighthawks. It really is very good.
And on that note, then, good night. I am about to go and sleep very well.
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