Poetic by Seyed Mostafa Zamani

A potently deep sleep laced with vivid dreams is a recipe for writing.

Before sleep hits:

It is dark like it's already 7 pm but it's only inching 5 pm. The sky rumbles quietly and I'm feeling adrift. The mode of the day feels unfriendly (of course, it's mere projection) and I am sleepy.

I then fell asleep like a log.

Upon waking up, here's what I had written:

I just had the most satisfying slumber. It started around pre dusk. I liked the feeling of just being carried away in a thick haze of sleep-inducing fluffy clouds that drowned all man-made noises and my internal monologues. When spoken words of other people no matter how loud started to lose meaning and sleep was ready to pounce in on my consciousness, I rejoiced!

While on night shift, the sounds and distractions sat at the most minimum, slumber after sun-up never quite brought the kind of rejuvenating therapeutic after-effect.

Anyway, the dreams I had just before I awaken, were activity-driven. I was at a museum, a spacious one and the mood of the dream setting, borders on disturbing, bothersome but I couldn't put a finger on the source of this. I was painting a wall of a small house for little people or perhaps animals, I wasn't sure.

But, the feeling of content from the act of painting drenched through my dream landscape. And then, I was in the company of my sweetheart, having a quiet stroll with his arms lovingly wrapped around me as we walked on going nowhere just enjoying the journey.

Even while in this particular dream, there was a deep contagious silence that seemed to hang like a heavy mist from the sleep that I was presently experiencing. I knew I was in a dream and at the same time, sensed logically that my body must be asleep too.

I so enjoyed the quiet that there was no need for conversation.

As the dream started to lose its grip and darkness from the room began to seize my senses up, there was a slow coming out of water sensation that I experienced.

Whatever or whoever I was in the physical reality was initially switched off. Whoever I was in the dream seemed more real than the self that was currently loading up into the system. I grasped for some vital clue of who I was, where I was located and who exactly were my loved ones.

My senses were still compromised with sleep and traces of dreams played about in my head, calling me in. But you know how it is, when consciousness sneaks up on you, all dreams get aborted.

It would be an understatement to say that the slumber was soul replenishing. Have you ever had a deeply transformative sleep experience? I bet most do but have you ever truly bask in its delightful calming after-effects? You really should.

A much shallow shuteye would rudely push me awake to the harsh company of rapid darting thoughts and a kind of upset seen in toddlers who just have to cry their eyeballs out as soon as consciousness gets plug in.

Have you ever felt that life somehow still feels a tad foreign even after all the years we've been here?

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