The uncertainty does not let me sleep. This would be an ordinary Sunday, if it weren’t for the fact that the day that follows will not be a normal Monday. Probably I will have to save this date in memory for posterity or it will become a memory that I cannot erase even if I try with all my might.
What I am sure of is that sometime tonight, while my body lies in inert unconsciousness, something in my life will have changed suddenly, who knows if forever.
The problem is that I can’t sleep. In silence and in the dark I wait, more lucidly than I would like, for Mr. Sandman to spread the sand of sleep over my eyes. I am tempted to look at my watch, but I know that if I do, I will lose my temper as well. I think of all the nights of Reyes until I was ten years old, the night before the Selectivity, my first night living away from home, the night before the first day of work, and all the vigils of important days of my life in which I will still have to deal with insomnia.
When I was little another problem was added: the fear of the dark. But over time I learned to live with the monsters that live under my bed; I understood that if you don’t feed them with your imagination, they either end up starving or simply flee to another scare’s room.
Now, on the other hand, I like the silence and the darkness. It is the only way to listen to my thoughts, refute them and leave them in order so that no one changes them. It is the problem of the world: noise and excess images do not let people think and they end up acting out of imitation and not out of conviction.
With every second that passes, I deduct the minutes that remain until the alarm clock rings and I know that when that happens and fatigue does not let me put my feet on the ground, I will remember this moment and I will wish I had not stayed awake, thinking about silly stuff.
But I suppose that tomorrow being a special Monday, this will not matter to me. Because I’ll have more reason to get up than to be lazy between the sheets. Because tomorrow, when I wake up, that corner of my mind, which I have kept quiet for so long, will finally be filled. That hole so close to the place where joy, illusion and the feeling of fullness are secreted.
But there is still an obstacle, I still have the most difficult thing: getting to sleep.