It's been a very long day. Not enough sleep last night, too many carbohydrates this morning, all of the above...hard to tell. In any case, they all conspired to send me spiralling off time and again today into elabourate fantasies that I couldn't distinguish from the class. It was as if there were two realities, superimposed on each other: the one in which Dr. Smith was lecturing on small-pale-cell anaemia, and the one in which Scott asked him a question, and the entire class wound up in a discussion of what sort of party we were going to have on Friday night. And that was the problem: these fantasies were so real, so believable. Hypnagogic hallucinations. I don't know if I learned anything this morning; I don't know what I really heard and what I imagined hearing. It all blended seamlessly together; the words coming from peoples mouths were simply not the things I heard them saying. I had entire conversations today without opening my mouth, dialogues and discussions. I played games, got drinks, studied and asked questions. But I don't know what was real and what wasn't. The only reason I'm aware of it at all was that I would occasionally wake up, and snap out of it, realising I was completely out of sync with the rest of the world. The afternoon went better, mostly because I had to focus on hearing heart sounds, and that somehow kept my mind awake. On the other hand, I did hear everything I was supposed to, and I'm sure that the conversation with Lowene in which my ENT exam grade got changed to 100% really happened, as well as the one where we got credit for at least one of the pulmonology questions. And I wrote a poem. Do not deprive the dancing girl of morning We must depict her lightly in the moon Though daylight comes and takes her with its dawning The dancing girl won't fade away too soon.
The summertime is slipping through her fingers, She seizes at the morning like the dew And clad in vapour fine that dies with sunlight She dances lest the winter winds blow through
O dancing girl of mist and summer shadow We paint your raiment lightly in the dawn For though the winter sunlight steals your substance Your dance, your summer's music lingers on. 23.01.03 - "Morning Glory"