Imprints and Impressions

At the end of the movie called 'day', when the credits go up, and when the motherly  night protectively wraps the world in her dark arms, rocking it to another period of blissful unconsciousness called sleep, I sit up in bed- drunk in a chain of events of the day which have become bundled up and confusing as the night becomes nighter, until all that remains is only a faint trail of the day, called 'impression'.

The thoughts of the day, at some unknown point transform to thoughts of the night before - the dreams.. The dreams are clear once again, now that the blinding light of the day has left the mind. The midnight run, the abandoned house, the failed mission...

My eyes are drooping, my body is only a little tired, my mind is unable to decide whether it is ready to crash with just one more thought, or has just refreshed...I need to sleep. Will the dreams be better tonight? I do not know, and have no control on them.

A fleeting thought of the day ahead, a little fear, a little hope, a sharp and sudden pang of pain, a twinge of self pity, a pointless regret, an exhilaration, an urgent prayer, half a tear...a something has just enveloped me and is now dragging me in its possession- a signal to go into that unconscious state where dreams rule without permission. A heaviness on the eyes...the drone of the ceiling fan turns into the sound of a grinder in an abandoned house...another anxious and unconscious wait for the sunshine to dawn and dispel the dreams...