As the clock strikes 11 pm my energy levels plummet to an all time low and my system slowly goes in hibernation. I do not call it sleep mode because I am pretty conscious of my surroundings, though not active enough to note slight movements. This is usually when I rummage for a bookmark and in the half-hearted search when I find none in my reach, I use anything within grasp to oblige.

Between 11:05 pm to 5:15 am I usually am no better than a log of wood because I sleep sound and am found in exactly the same coordinates as I had touched the bed at 11:05 pm.

This seldom changes and when it does, it makes me mull over to understand what might have caused it. I guard my night’s sleep like a mother watches her sleeping baby. This is because it’s the only breather I get in the 24 hours everyday. It’s the one that I need to keep my mind cool, calm and focused for the day ahead.

In the past three days, something different happened. On Friday night, I had a strange dream that left me restless but with no memory of it when the alarm buzzed. The following night, I saw myself skipping a rope an extra 300 times than I usually do. This was not the end of it because I went on pushing the envelope in everything I do on a daily basis, waking up exhausted with a patchy recollection of the dream.

Recurrence of dreams with a definite theme, day after day (for a non-dreamer like yours truly) is something that always makes me wonder; what’s the trigger? I ran through the events of the day in my mind, but couldn’t find any answers.

Then my sub-conscious mind decided to answer me and how. Last night, determined to finish the book I am currently reading (despite 120 pages to go) I was very aware and wide awake when Pari jolted me.

“Mumma, why aren’t you sleeping yet?” she said straining her groggy eyes.

I replied in a reflex,”I have to finish the book, you go off to sleep.”

“But, you are sleeping in the chair, why don’t you get in bed?”

That’s when I felt a sharp pain rise in my neck that had been hanging on the side and began to hurt the minute my mind realized I had been sleeping in a bad posture with the book still in my hands.

I put the book down and went to sleep. After what felt like I’d slept well, I turned on the light and stared at the clock, it was 4 am.

I drank a glass of water and tried to go back to sleep, but words from the book I had been reading in the past three days, started popping in my mind. I wouldn’t have found them unusual had it been straight out of the book. They had morphed to suit my current life, I was now the protagonist and all I had read in the book in the past two days was motivating me (because that’s the genre of the book I’m reading) to get out of bed and start working on the goals I had been wishing away due to fear.

Fear of failure. Fear of having to wage another war. Fear of stepping out of my comfort zone. I tried to brush away the unsettling thoughts, but they won’t go away. I tossed and turned in bed for a long time but when I switched on the light it was just 4:20 am.

I was beginning to feel weary fighting my conscience, but to distract the disquieting thoughts, I picked up the book I’d been reading. The minute I read the first line, all was quiet, I looked around, alarmed, closed the book in an attempt to concentrate, but no one whispered in my mind and in no time I was reading the book like I had never stopped.

In the wake of the day, I feel, this book (which I have reviewed here) has stirred something deep inside me. It has nudged the demons I usually keep well-fed and sleeping hard.

Since inspiration has chosen to graciously pay me a visit, I am determined to act civil and chart out a plan of action to give my goals an active transformation. In an attempt to keep the spark alive, I chose to scribble it all in a post before I’ve lost the mojo, again.

The song on my mind: Ye kya jagah hai doston ~ Umrao Jaan