I took a midday nap yesterday. I was struck by a bout of inexplicable tiredness that seemed to nest all across my body. I hadn’t done anything yesterday, but I was so tired. Of course, I had to put on my podcast in order to fall asleep, a random basketball-related one, I don’t particularly remember which. Regardless, I fell asleep and ‘woke up’ an hour later. I say “woke up” but really I can’t assign a particular word to it. It was weird, I was aware of my body pressing into my sheets, the pillow behind my head, and the faint murmuring voices of the podcast in the background. So I was aware, at least of my surroundings. Except, I couldn’t wake up, caught in a state of limbo between consciousness and slumber. I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t open my eyes or get up, but I was aware. Aware of mostly everything around me. Aware of my fluctuating state. Aware of all of this and yet unable to do anything.
It was scary. I felt like I was suffocating in my own body. You’re never conscious of how your breathing slows down when you sleep, your body not needing the oxygen that being alive requires. But your brain doesn’t know that. So I am taking these small inhalations, desperately trying to breathe more cause I feel like I’m dying, but I’m unable to. I have no control over my body. I am the water wheel forced to turn, unable to deviate or change.
I was trapped in my own body. What a weird fucking thing.
It reminded me of something from my childhood, in a similar situation. My parents hosted a party, and as the youngest, I was expected to stay downstairs and act as entertainment. Sitting next to the firepit as the flames smoldered, I desperately tried to stay present. But as the night waned and as my bedtime passed, my eyes started to flutter shut, the conversations melding with the sound of the crackling fire. Then, I felt a pair of arms reach under me lifting me off the lawn chair, but I felt like I was a million miles away from my body. I knew what was happening to my physical self but I also felt…distant from it. Fading off in the room over, I heard the sounds of the party continue.
I wanted to be a part of that sound, to engage and laugh with others. Yet I was slipping away, unable to keep myself afloat. After a little bit, I stopped fighting the feeling and let it sweep me away, off into dreamland and unconsciousness. It was a peaceful end to my night.
The contrast though, is what pops into my mind when I think about it. The exhilarating happy mood in one room and the sinking slumber in the other. Contrast. I find myself noticing a lot of that recently. More specifically, when I’m experiencing something, I often think about the reverse. I’m a teenager. People older than me have always talked about how this is the stage where I should be experimenting with what life is really like. Naturally, like everyone else I assume, that got me thinking about death. More specifically the end.
I think about death more than most I would say. When I was young, death was an end.
This is what I think death to be like. To be aware of your body and everything around you, but ultimately letting it fade away. To hear the life and laughter in the room over. To sleep.