I have always suspected people who say they don’t like sleeping, and more than that until they tell me that “sleep is a waste of time.” Just as I think the expiration dates in the egg boxes, or wireless and wireless communications sellers from door to door, or promotions on large trips … I always feel that anything is hiding. I cannot avoid asking for more detailed explanations … What do you mean, Lisbon-Hvana-Varradiro in Hotel-Cartel-Standards-which is overwhelmed by only 400 euros? What do you mean, the convenience of the firefighting to the mission to work to an hour to an hour per hour. “Can you explain how this package works better?” I think I cannot avoid.
“Four horrific centuries are enough for me.” With some envy, I always wonder how to pay for a few hours of tangle of fatigue, fatigue, daily interests, events to sit, and ideas for arrangement, while I make accounts on the physical effort needed to make everything when I try to stick to the scarcity of teenagers, shrinking the abdomen, tightening honor and pancakes in the mind … so that you can work … closes the button. But I stop breathing, and if I try to move Agilly … grip! The button there ends the jump.
Of people who do not sleep and hope whenever they jumped to them.
Whenever someone tells me that “sleep is a waste of time!” I am confused. I consider what it will be if we are always awake, without the need for physiological reform, cellular organization, and storing memories. What will happen if we were in a kind of surreal movement without interruption, we were always awake, and we copied the hours of monitoring, even after the sun continues, and the tasks are continuing in a episode Continues without breaking the erasure, there is no reason to stop, not only the will, rather than need, to stop.
I bet that we will be responsible for occupying nights with more work, repeated times, seconds, third functions, and night shifts to provide the silence of darkness, and that the stock market will never end, the bird will not stop UFF… come … sleep! Waking up to simulate restart … even if it takes some time.
I am not only speaking in comfort and laziness, in the sedative control unit of the body’s surrender in bed, to deposit the liquefied head on the pillow. It is just when I sleep, especially when I dream, I always think I earn time, not in a self -tangible way. I always return to several years, or ahead, who I am, hours of drilling again, time from the inside, from dreams.
It chants the idea that dreams bring us a hidden fact in what we do not explain, we do not know, or before that, we know it before we know. They tell us about things that may only allow ourselves to find when we close, bewildered in the dark, and sank in the inability to predict our lands, between their condemnation of consciousness and the emptiness of absence. As a free ticket for an unreasonable entire movie, in a maze where time is intertwined, the body itself is lost – with a warranty, so that the opposite – the next day we will wake up in our ready -made body for another day.
“A waste of time …” It is interesting that last year Portugal was The second largest consumption in the world From a specific medicine to insomnia, according to the International Drug Control Council (INCB) report.
It seems that the armistice between daily fears is alone and has passed from diving into the subconscious and is difficult to control. Sleeping medications appear as a kind of tax stop imposed, in the struggle between body fatigue and distress in a vacuum.
Perhaps during the day, while we are in a state of alertness, we cannot prepare for uncertainty at night, because what cannot be controlled inhabits us, so at night the head is not silent in a hurricane of accounts, forecasts, plans and strategies that can be requested, which are paid by darkness. And when it is time to turn off the light, let’s get busy again like a child with fear of darkness, the imaginary monster under the bed. Under the eyelids.
For some time inside my dreams it was always at night. Everything has been placed on a fixed night, not frightening, and not calm, always in Lusco-Fusco, as if it was lacking electricity in Numi, or there were no quantities to deal with light effects. I ran in the streets of Lisbon, which was invented, and I entered homes that I had never obtained, filled with secret, endless divisions, which are endless … And when I woke up to the story of Kafka where a man woke up in the morning with his body, I turned: “One morning, when I was disturbed by disturbing dreams, Grigerio Samsa gave him to his family in the insistence of Gigl.”
nest transformation When I arrived in Lisbon, I was 17 years old, and the capital seemed to me an endless maze of alleys and unexpected fear, frightening fear, unexpected characters who saw me while I was afraid and shrewd angles, between the East, and unable to chaos, do not appreciate the people, and climb people who are unable to chaos. Cafes in Payro Alto. At that time, he could not sleep without going through some periods of insomnia, the night that was dark and unknown to me.
On these nights, the city seemed to be unpredictable and unpredictable to the extent that it was in bed, to think about the possibility of waking up with the legs of cockroaches that climbed through the old walls of the rented room in the angels and entered a selfish. Or almost reliable possibility of waking up turns into an insect like Kafka’s character. It took some time until I felt calm enough to go ashamed of the various homes in the city that later at home, and finally a cocoon.
Darkness and night have always been given to the chase and everything that hides what cannot be explained. It reminds us of how the accidental surrounds us, and we fall into this concave area, where we feel a very small child who is subjected to the huge world. The unit is pumped, and makes it a hole without edges, just a hollow space, just like feeling that we do not control or wear his head. Sleep, even if lying is next to someone, however, is the feeling of lonely in the purest condition. Perhaps this is the reason sometimes bothering us very much.
Now, I hope to sleep, not because you want to accelerate the night, but perhaps because I feel tired, because we press a lot of things in the day. Also because I love to sleep, I love to dive into the abyss from the subconscious, that my dreams invade it, even if it cannot be controlled. Sometimes they feel uncomfortable, buried me, fun. They expanded the things that I swear to arrange, such as an experienced dog surprising us when we opened the bedroom door and men with all the clothes spread on the floor, from the inside to the outside. Sometimes the dreams of shoes rotate as they chew their feet during the day.
The electricity came. I always slept, sleeping between dreams without a narrative logic, to jump times, and facts, to ask for the armistice to the images that insist on appearing. But in the morning, re -last blackoutIt is feeling that I will again reveal the strange maze of the unexpected event, I couldn’t avoid playing lightly on the legs. Just to make sure I didn’t make me an insect. Like Gregor Samsa.
