A Dream

Inertia rules me. This is especially true on cold winter mornings. Lucky are they who are able to extract themselves with ease from the warm loving embrace of their blankets. For me every morning is an ordeal. It is at times such as these that I wish I was a Columbian drug lord. It is not the sheer opulence and decadence of their lifestyle that makes me envious of them but the assumption that powerful outlaws wake of their own will. For that single pleasure I'm willing to overlook the fact that one day a bullet might end it all. These days everybody runs that risk I suppose.

Instead each morning I have to face a grim reality. The reality that I have to show up at work for another eight thousand odd days before I can retire. On each of those days I'll be compelled to obey the alarm clock. I have to bear the pain of separation from my pillows and sheets to head off to a place where I spend all day wondering if it was really necessary. You would think that all these years of following the routine might have imbibed it into my system. But my mind is incredibly obstinate when it comes to these matters. This dog doesn't want to learn anymore routines.

I like my work. But there are many who'll agree with me when I say that asking us to catch the bus at half past eight is pushing it. My fellow brothers and I have one question to ask of the corporate world. What makes nine to five the ideal schedule for all business in this world? We would like to see some facts and figures that prove this beyond any doubt. And who was the moron who came up with the adage that talks of the prudence of the early-to-bed-and-early-to-rise paradigm? This senseless practice has only created generations of caffeine addicts. I sense a scam here and can already guess who's behind it? Its the Columbian drug lord and his Brazilian cousins. Who else would stand to benefit from an army of addicts? Now you know why I see a future for myself there.

Conspiracy theories aside, I cannot see the wisdom in being at my desk when I'd rather be in my bed. Some wise biologist commented that we are the only species on earth that go to bed when not sleepy and wake up when we are. And to think we pride ourselves on being intelligent. Ofcourse the naysayers often argue that we are also the only species that drive around in cars and so we're different. As if that proves anything. It is in fact the drive that forces us to get up earlier than we should. Beating rush hour happens to give my sleep a beating as well. Talk about automobiles facilitating rapid transportation.

The whole idea of civilization, I thought, was to increase the comfort in one's life. The vision was surely to take the 'rest in peace' out of the epithet and into our lives. In that it has been an utter failure so far. I dream of a time when every man is free to rise at any time of his choice, where the mind is led by Him into ever-deepening slumber and inaction, a time of tranquility and peace. To this heaven, my Father, let me awake.