It's 1:30am, and I've decided to crawl once again into the safe haven that is my twin-sized bed. Lying on my back and staring up into the darkness, I breathe a sigh, strip away all inhibitions and finally allow my mind to slip into its comfort zone. Those last thirty minutes of reflection before falling can go through pretty bipolar extremes; either I bask in wide-eyed childish reverie, remembering something incredible that happened to me OR I end up squirming in anxiety-ridden despair at the thought of a most embarrassing or frightening memory. If I wrote every single 30-minute-think-session into a chapter and combined them into a book series, I think it'd speak volumes about who I REALLY am more than anything else.
They say that dreams are the portals to the soul, a chance for your brain to delve into your unconscious thoughts, perhaps revealing your Freudian fetishes, deepest desires, greatest fears or impossible dreams, but I actually find that it's the moments when you let your mind wander semi-consciously at the end of the day that show who you really are. All alone, in the darkness and safety of your own personal space, there's nobody else around to judge you. You're not bogged down about what others think of you; you're free to imagine whatever you wish, whether it be violent and full of hatred or compassionate and dreamy. That moment just before you drift off to sleep is a time for your everyday conscious brain to reflect reevaluate your actions. It's a time when you're free to be yourself, both the good parts and the bad parts. It is my favorite time of day.
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