One Hour Makes All the Difference

Have you ever noticed that early in the morning or late at night, an hour becomes a huge leap of time? While the shift from 1:00 to 2:00 PM might pass without a second notice, and 7-8 is just a TV show or two, going to bed at midnight and going to bed at one seem wholly unsimilar, and waking up at 5 or at 6 can make a difference in your whole day.

I noticed just this phenomenon after last night's fitful slumber. That is not how you spell fitfull. hmm. is it even a word? I would just use spell check but in this new format I don't have it. Darn.

Anyway, off topic. As I was saying. On Saturday morning I awoke naturally at some time before daybreak. I was just lying there in bed, and suddenly I was consious and aware of the bird chirping outside my window. It was peaceful. Because it was still dark, I knew it was pretty early yet, as the sun begins to make its presence known between 5 and 5:30 these days. Early meant I did not have to get up soon, which was pleasant. I lay there, and glanced out my window at the world, with just the beginning tinges of light starting to show, then looked at my clock and saw it was about 4:45. As I lay there, I began to get this tingle of excitement. I did have to get up somewhat early that day, to get to work and finish in time to meet my family in salt lake for a day of wandering and house shopping. I was stoked to see the fam, as always, and as I lay there thinking about it, I became more and more awake.

I had many pleasant thoughts. I've been super stressed lately, trying to figure out what to do with myself, and usually this stress makes itself known by me purposefully avoiding thinking about my future or anything further than that day, pointedly blanking about any sort of decision-making that may be necessary. But Saturday morning I thought about things, and life just seemed so all-around pleasant and agreeable that I felt hope and excitement for everything. Truly there is something magical about a dawn about to break, and almost I wanted to get out of bed to see it. I thought of going to work right then, but realized that I couldn't and I would have to wait. Eventually I fell back asleep until 7 or so when I got up.

But you see how pleasant that was? Life was happy and hopeful. I had purpose and meaning, even if it was just to appreciate a new day.

Contrast this with my experience last night.

I ate a looooot of food this weekend. What with the rents in Salt Lake and then Sunday being my typical out of control, eat a ton to get me through church and being at home, and the roommate dinner of goodness, I was pretty well stuffed when I went to bed. I don't sleep very well, I've discovered, when I eat a lot before bed, especially sugar. So this morning, I awoke after some crazy nightmare where I was actually in an action-movie, following along some Bourne like character that was fighting for our lives, and I had no fear that he could be hurt, but quite a bit of fear that I could be. At some point my man ran in a room and I was left to hide in this closet while zombie things chased me, and I was sure they would get me. Somehow they didn't, but then I couldn't find the guy and he'd seemed to abandon me.

At this point I woke up, sad, scared, and uneasy. What an odd dream! And then I felt weird, and I looked at my clock, and it was 3:23. An odd forboding came over me, and I cursed the time as though it had personally offended me. It somehow seemed the very worst thing that could happen to me that I would wake up at 3:23. And I was instantly untired, though extremely grumpy and panicked about not being tired. I knew I wouldn't fall back asleep, and it would ruin my day, and then I thought, well why does it matter? My day doesn't matter! And then I started thinking about my life and what I should do, and I felt like the biggest loser in the history of the world. I thought of my upcoming birthday, I thought of my lack of money, I thought of letting everyone down, I thought a myriad of awful, hopeless, gloomy thoughts. There was no excitement for the day here. No enthusiasm or tingle. I was miserable, and lay restlessly, trying to force my self to sleep amid insults and threats hurled my way by my own disturbed brain. After a while I checked the time again only to see an hour had gone by. Curses again! The insult! The injury! This was the end of the world. I gave in by reading a book until I calmed down and fell asleep, but my morning was much less happy and it took quite a while to pick myself up out of the slum I slid into in the night.

So my point is, what a difference that hour makes. I like morning. If I could just get out of bed and hie myself outside, I would love to wake with the sun everyday and I think the magic of the time would do wonders for me. But there is something unlawful about the 2-3 AM hours. On rare occassion they should be seen, but in general it is a mystic time of no good, and it surprised me how it attacked me this morning. Soon I hope to drift peacefully off to sleep, aided by a slight hunger that will keep the churning, digestive stomache to a minimum. And I hope to learn to conquer this unruly time of night in the future.