Middle of the night musings...

I am often awake at 4 AM. It is a funny time, too early to rise, for sure. So I toddle off to the bathroom, just in case that is what woke me, then settle back into the cocoon I fashion for myself, full of hope of another 4 hours, sometime soon. Usually, they come, but later, like at 6 AM. So I meditate. Because if I don't quiet my mind, it flits about like a famished mosquito, feeding on every fear I ever could imagine. (Why is it that fears are fifty times more frightening in the night?) Money is high on the fear list, along with rapid aging (I'm going to wake up looking like Boris Karloff in the original mummy picture), schoolwork (a five page paper, two chapters of PoliSci and one of Psych before Monday, oh my), etc. So I shut off the worry works and go to my sanctuary, this pristine house where there is never any dust, or other people, for that matter. Just crystal vases filled with flowers, sunlight through lace curtains, and music everywhere, where I walk about weightlessly in flowing silky robes and rest on poufy-soft upholstery in seashell colors. And before I know it, morning is with me. Sometimes I have not gone back to sleep at all, but I still feel refreshed. Beats pills, any night.