Sometimes, awakening, after a night of a quiet sleep, is like magically going to a remote region; a sweet dawn of an unchartered yesterday; a nameless, ageless region with neither distance nor time. It’s like going back to dream, like diving into a fine midst of unconsciousness. Other times, awakening equals anguish. It’s a tourniquet wrapped around the throat that hinders breathing and brings an anonymous terror upon us, and we don’t know why. Or it’s loneliness and an absence of feeling, like a cold winter that freezes us, a sense of abandonment. And who has not experienced when awakening after a sleepless night a kind of tiredness and lack of motivation that urge us to enter a state of leisure?
At times, awakening is like a bridge that invites us to walk through, each one at a different pace, from dawn to sunset. It’s a promise of future, of friendship, of good fortune. It’s all imagination, blissfulness—an oasis in the struggle of everyday reality. And still other times, awakening is a remembrance. It’s listening to murmurs coming from within, an echo of intimate voices. It’s the feeling of being loved, caressed, and it’s the tenderness of a kiss announcing a new day.