Burning the 5am oil.

I’m not used to insomnia.

This is unusual for writers, from what I’ve heard. Creative sorts and their minds whirring and chugging away, refusing to switch off. If anything I was the opposite: a hypersomniac. Life gets tiring pretty easily, and it’s so easy to sleep too much. When I was in the 6th Form, my history teacher was convinced I was either suffering from either anaemia or narcolepsy. Consequently, irregular sleep patterns are the norm for me. Recently, though, I’ve been having trouble sleeping, and staying asleep.

Tonight, though, it’s through no fault of my own. It’s hard to sleep when drunken housemates arrive with an entourage at 4am.

I guess the silver lining to this is that I’m writing a blog entry. Even if it’s not about anything particularly interesting. Well, it could be. Let’s see.

Something that seems to have coincided with this change in my circadian rhythms is that I dream a lot more. Or at least, vividly enough to remember them afterwards. It’s reminded me that I wanted to write a story involving dreams at one point. In particular, the idea of connecting with something intrinsically human when you dream. An archetypal subconscious, something that is shared between people unknowingly. That every night you bare your soul to humanity only to forget it when you

 

…Sorry, I lost my train of thought when I heard something break downstairs. Back now.

Hopefully I’ll think to write here more often, and my bits and pieces will get more interesting. We’ll see.

The Post Office:

Disclaimer:

'Quintconsequential' is a word of my own invention, despite the definition in the style of the Oxford English Dictionary featured on the site. By all means, use it, whisper it, shout it from the rooftops. But please, remember that you heard it here first!