I can’t sleep. I’m suffering from sinusitis due to some viral infection. My nose is clogged and I can only lie in one position_ on my back. I hear noise in my right ear. It sounds like heavy breathing or a violent wind blowing from the sea. I can only hear it if I accidentally put my head in certain angles. Those (angles) vary every time.
I used to fall asleep faster inside a moving vehicle especially on a long distant drive. The thought that I’m on my way to some place (I’ve never been) somehow calm my nerves. In the past, when I could’t sleep I imagined myself in an airplane, going home. When was the last time I have been home? In reality five years ago. In my mind, in 2004. 2004 was the turning point in my life. That was the last time I saw Dimple_ a pretty deceptive face that can fool almost anyone.
He’s married now (how that happened I have no idea) and has a one year old baby. It took him a long time to get there. But he made it. I knew him as a young vagrant, getting by his looks. Hardly literate. Not suited to be a father. Who could have known that after 12 years He will board a plane and work abroad. Life is indeed a wheel of fortune. If I knew it then, would I start a family with him? Give him what he wants? Mother his children? I don’t think so.
Speaking of children. They are (most of them anyway) ungrateful
bastards beings. They will always find a way to blame you for something. D. has ongoing problem with his father. Sometimes I understand, sometimes I don’t. He doesn’t feel loved by him he said. I wonder what love for him is. The smothering kind his mother bestows on him? Maybe. He said he stops being Oedipus. I have my doubts. There are pictures (very recent ones) to prove it. I wonder if it’s okay to look at one’s parent with a lover’s gaze. No, I’m not jealous. I find it fascinating. What is wrong and what is right anyway. I for my part decided not to go to the wedding of my only daughter which is going to take place next week. Too complicated to explain why. And I am not ready yet to talk about it. I make it my business not to talk about my children in my writings. Out of respect I thought. Or afraid to open a can of worms.
Opening cans of worms and letting the skeletons out the closet dance naked. Even in that aspect I find myself choosy. Though I write about hard to digest thought provoking controversial to some subjects, I don’t write about the things that hurt the most. I have no explanation why.
I have to take a bath now to present myself decently to the doctor. I will continue my train of thoughts there and it will unravel until the wee hours till I fall asleep exhausted. Till the next time. Don’t go away. Ignore the errors in this article. No time (and no desire) to edit.