Snagging a Gig in the Middle of the Night

Sometimes I don't sleep well--mainly because I have never really been on the world's sleep schedule. I do better without clocks. I think if we need clocks to wake us then we really aren't sleeping enough. This has been a hard and fast issue since childhood.

My poor mother would have to force my body awake by gathering me up to sit me upright and by gently tugging at my arms and guiding my lifeless body to take some steps. We did it morning after morning when I first began going to school. Finally I got the hang of awakening to clocks, but never have done it well. As an adult I often curse while reaching to turn off the alarm. When life has been arduous, I've required adaptations: put the alarm across the room, use 2 alarms, use alarms plus a relentless caller who talks me through getting up and moving around.

I obeyed last night's initiative from my unconscious, stumbled around and trolled the internet. 2 hours ago, I was notified that I am hired.

I am thrilled.

I've always put a lot of stock in dreams and sleep and mysterious mandates from my spontaneous brain. I remember Wayne Dyer talking about the awakenings from sleep as the greater powers calling for you to do some work. Happily and gratefully, my own archetypal fascinations with dreams, symbolism, art, trance, intuition, etc have always led me to mystery, faith and further fascinations. Mainly, they have made me happy and I've come to recognize that they are signposts saying hey, keep going! right path! keep going!

I think I was about 9 when I excitedly told my mom that we 'get' to sleep 1/3 of our lives. She became worried and thought perhaps I was depressed. She didn't say that, of course, but as an adult and knowing what I know now about my mental health history, I get why she looked the way she did as she examined my face with her keen eyes, looking for how in the world that little mind was working and why I loved being unconscious so much.

All it really was, I would tell her if I could, was my love of magic. If I recall correctly, I was also beginning my love for stage magic at that time. I gave it up eventually. One of my tricks required I strap industrial rubber bands along the inside of my sleeve to the back of my waistband. A few hard snaps against my arms raised whelps and so I retired.

Making cards disappear from your hand is not a painless pursuit.

Photo: On the Blues Highway and Resting in the Rain, Marie Monroe