Night brings a release of little nooks in the mind that hide during daylight. Thoughts and repressed memories come abound and the silence of a dark room can be the only light to illuminate their unexpected appearance. As I squirm under a warm fleece, I remember the familiar smell of a Colombian summer, visiting the small towns dotting the road to countryside holidays, and even the slight exhaust of a polluted Colombian capital. These are memories brought to life by smells I may catch in a millisecond while walking down Lexington or any other avenue in the midst of my commute to the office. It all comes alive when there is nothing more to think about, when the body slowly drifts to sleep and its sweet loss of consciousness. I dream of seeing these things again soon, but I know it probably will be some time. It isn’t until daylight that I realize I had already fallen asleep and the memories are gone. Well, the memories themselves are not gone, but their resurgence would have to wait another silent dark restful night.
Do I crave moments like this, above all? I would have to say, they do give me a feeling unlike that of laughter I can enjoy with my friends, or the gratification of any other personal successes in my active life. These other moments in my active life (and I have come to refer to my life outside of my drift to sleep and its eventual state as my active life) may have some meaning; they give happiness for my immediate consumption. But they end and, come later in the day, I can find not so happy moments again. Sleeping to feel, sleeping to remember, sleeping to smell the days when true joy to be remembered many years later- that is the pursuit of happiness that seeks me out.
