How fascinating it is that what one may find most intriguing is the very thing that is the farthest from that individual’s own being. Perhaps fascinating is not the correct word, as that very concept, essentially reverse psychology, is a human’s instinctive behavior; what one may see as unfamiliar, generally, becomes utterly captivating to him or her.
I have always been mesmerized by the act of sleeping; ironically, sleep is a luxury I have been unable to attain. How glorious it is to have a period where the thousands of unrelated and minuscule actions experienced throughout the day are blended into a cohesive vision. It is a brief moment where reality and reverie collide, diving into a brilliant world of unimaginable world where everything is upside down and backwards in a strikingly beautiful way.
Being lost in such a meditative thought, I had to look towards the Romantic poets for answers. William Wordsworth poem “To Sleep” (one of three of the poems titled “To Sleep”) encapsulates a contemplative thought where the speaker unearths his or her own uneasiness towards the calm and serene act of sleeping.
"To Sleep" (1806)
- William Wordsworth
O GENTLE SLEEP! do they belong to thee,
These twinklings of oblivion? Thou dost love
To sit in meekness, like the brooding Dove,
A captive never wishing to be free.
This tiresome night, O Sleep! thou art to me
A Fly, that up and down himself doth shove
Upon a fretful rivulet, now above
Now on the water vexed with mockery.
I have no pain that calls for patience, no;
Hence am I cross and peevish as a child:
Am pleased by fits to have thee for my foe,
Yet ever willing to be reconciled:
O gentle Creature! do not use me so,
But once and deeply let me be beguiled.
(Oil Painting: The Mask By Kathy Ostman-Magnusen)
I think we read this in intro poetry last semester - it is very familiar.
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