reverie

I've been having trouble waking up lately. It's not so much that I'm sleeping through the day but more that I'm willfully extending my post-sleep sleep by convincing myself of many uncomfortable semi-truths. Like that my dream world is more inviting than my waking world...or that no one is expecting me to wake up and "do something"...or that if I wake up and walk around in the raw air I'll be exposed, out of my shell, seen for the fraud I am.

I didn't have trouble getting up Thursday morning, though. A little dose of tragedy on the Western Front always gets my waking blood pumping. Maybe it's because I wanted to be vigilant, but I really think it's because I have a nose for devastation and I wanted to feel the rush of this one. Part of me is afraid that since the Day the Sky Came Down I've come to depend on impending doom to greet me on my alarm clock. As if catastrophe is the minimum occasion I need to get me up and at 'em. Lacking this, waking up seems less than urgent.