A rare moment alone, so I sit in silence, not saying a word. I can do this for hours, perhaps days (have to try that). No music. No TV. Just the sound of the wind outside my window blowing through the trees (whose leaves may never change color since the temps are back in the 80s).
A somewhat fitful sleep entrapped me for 12 hours Saturday. Vivid dreams I can’t quite remember lingered as I woke enough to turn to my other side and drift away again. 7:45 found me panicking: “What day is it? Do I have to work?” Answering that question groggily took time. It’s Sunday, the revelation finally sank in. I burrowed under the covers. An incessant dog bark startled me awake around noon and obliterated thoughts of honoring my body’s request to lounge in bed all day Sunday. To the solace of my car.
The quiet of driving alone sometimes heals, but too many NASCAR wannabes make even the scenic river route unpleasant. They’re crazy, and there are simply too many. The megalopolis between Washington and Boston bursts at the seams with humanity — 53 million and counting. My in-the-middle region’s bloat equals about one-seventh of that. The endless developments (all of those people have to live somewhere) mean it’s a 40-minute (plus) drive to the edge of civilization, now. The Colonials (homes) continue their march toward any remaining open spaces and will gobble them up, too.
Work is busy and that’s more than OK, but with restful Saturdays anything but and off hours the other days literally sucking the life out of me with never-ending noise, movement, and light, the goal is escape. The plan: to flee the megalopolis and never return. My dream looms large, but must wait for certain things to fall into place. Until then, find (create?) escape and respite. But where?
Inside, if the local dogs sleep and the people around me are silent or away.
Outside, if the weather ever cools. Usually, during Autumn and Winter, most people hide indoors while I venture out in as many layers as needed to enjoy the solace and solitude of empty streets on colder days.
Long drives, now only after sunset. Dark country roads are old friends, when all of the others finally race home and all I can see is about 300 feet in front of me and nothing but blackness behind.
In the middle of the night, if I wasn’t working normal hours. I miss 2 a.m., when the world is still, and the silence, deafening.
Reading, writing, recharging somehow other than escaping into my dreamscape for half a day. I love sleep, but I like being awake more, as long as my batteries aren’t sapped by the the energy vampires around me.
Breathe in, breathe out. Think peaceful thoughts. There’s always tomorrow and the dream of a world away. Just wish it was today.