![\"\"](\"http:\/\/imgs.xkcd.com\/comics\/students.png\" "\\"dream\\"")
<\/p>\nI haven’t been sleeping very well thee past 2 weeks or so.. My work is creeping into my dreams.\u00a0 Not in the good way, I might add. I love it when a technical problem works its way into my sleep.. I’ve actually done some pretty creative problem solving in my sleep (eg. the solar tracker on The Colony).. This is the hard kind of dream..\u00a0\u00a0 the kind when you just loop over the same ideas.. or same concern.. and nothing is worked out. a part of you knows it isn’t a real problem.. but.. you can’t seem to get off of it . A meeting I was supposed to call.. a report unfinished.. a todo left undone. I find myself staring at the ceiling now at 2 am, 3am.. 4am.. wondering why I’m awake. usually I fall back asleep.. but wake up in that same\u00a0 state of something left half finished..<\/p>\n
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Actually.. I know I can get blogger for demerits for doing this..(including two poems from the same guy in the same week).. but there’s a great Billy Collins poem for this problem.. Actually.. there’s a great Billy Collins poem for every<\/em> problem<\/p>\n Insomnia<\/strong> Even though the house is deeply silent someone inside me will not It makes no difference whether I lie staring at the ceiling What is there to do but close my eyes Does anything exist at this hour hope I sleep tonight<\/p>\n nite folks, note sam<\/p>\n -me<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I haven’t been sleeping very well thee past 2 weeks or so.. My work is creeping into my dreams.\u00a0 Not in the good way, I might add. I love it when a technical problem works its way into my sleep.. I’ve actually done some pretty creative problem solving in my sleep (eg. the solar tracker … Continue reading Monday night – Insomnia<\/span>
\nBilly Collins<\/p>\n
\nand the room, with no moon,
\nis perfectly dark,
\neven though the body is a sack of exhaustion
\ninert on the bed,<\/p>\n
\nget off his tricycle,
\nwill not stop tracing the same tight circle
\non the same green threadbare carpet.<\/p>\n
\nor pace the living-room floor,
\nhe keeps on making his furious rounds,
\nlittle pedaler in his frenzy,
\nmy own worst enemy, my oldest friend.<\/p>\n
\nand watch him circling the night,
\nschoolboy in an ill-fitting jacket,
\nleaning forward, his cap on backwards,
\nwringing the handlebars,
\nmaintaining a certain speed?<\/p>\n
\nin this nest of dark rooms
\nbut the spectacle of him
\nand the hope that before dawn
\nI can lift out some curious detail
\nthat will carry me off to sleep –
\nthe watch that encircles his pale wrist,
\nthe expandable band,
\nthe tiny hands that keep pointing this way and that.<\/p>\n