The day

I usually wake up once before waking up.
At 4 in the morning.
Sometimes my throat is parched...dehydrated with last night's wine.
At other times, my bladder is full (sometimes with last night's wine).
But mostly it is the thought of the day that lies ahead.
Slides, numbers, projections, meetings, discussions.
Drag day. Dragon day.
Dreaded day.
Day blacker than the night.
Day of dead wakefulness.
So I think about the day, get depressed and put myself to sleep just 5 minutes before I have to wake up.

At 4 in the evening the thought of the day on its deathbed cheers me up.
I wade through the slides and the numbers and the meetings and the discussions with all the strength of my optimism.
And then in a couple hours I leave to meet my loved one.
To have a good time. To celebrate our surviving another day.
But. The day is gone. It shadows are not.
It looms large over us.
On me the tiredness and bitterness of all the hours gone down the drain.
On her the tiredness and bitterness of waiting.
So we meet in mute resentment of others company.
Resentment of the day long longing.

And so I am eager to go to sleep.
So that I can sleep and dream. Of a day not like the real one.
Till at 4 I wake up again. Before finally waking up.