Sleeping is for wusses and healthy people.
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Artist:
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Album:Dmitri Shostakovich: 24 Preludes & Fugues op.87
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Track:Prelude and Fugue no.14 in E flat minor
^[Prelude and Fugue no.14 in E flat minor (00:07:03)]^When you can't sleep, strange thoughts burst in your head.. and lately I've been having some troubles sleeping.Almost every night, I find myself battling numbness and a wicked combination of bright light, thoughts and sound. As I lay reflecting on the bed of my mind, the most incredible visuals stumble before my eyes; I travel through the imaginary of things I've apprehended earlier (which most of the time results in a conclusion that endlessly revolves around its nonsense).
"__The Maiden__" (1913)*Gustav Klimt*.I have to vanquish this one I had last night (I sense it has my psyche all tangled up):It all started as a magnificent journey through a world of colour and light... which morphed into a mash of disproportional golden figures, as if naturalism, realism and symbolism were coexisting – yes, I was subconsciously wandering through a __Klimtian__ world; I wonder who might have triggered such glee ::wink wink::... and there was this beautiful melody, sounding so oddly familiar. (I spent a century trying to reach that cookie jar – luckily, when I woke up the cookie was still resting in my mind.) After brainstorming for awhile, I got an answer: apparently, I was dreaming about a Shostakovich’s composition, nicely depicted by some strange figures, yet recognizable as a mental interpretation (somewhat delusional) of Klimt's work.I now realise I wasted my morning trying to fit the pieces together, instead of scheming the perfect plan to confine the self in such warmth only a bed provides.Oh well, it's never too late to join the __noon-nap__ pillow party.
"__The Maiden__" (1913)*Gustav Klimt*.I have to vanquish this one I had last night (I sense it has my psyche all tangled up):It all started as a magnificent journey through a world of colour and light... which morphed into a mash of disproportional golden figures, as if naturalism, realism and symbolism were coexisting – yes, I was subconsciously wandering through a __Klimtian__ world; I wonder who might have triggered such glee ::wink wink::... and there was this beautiful melody, sounding so oddly familiar. (I spent a century trying to reach that cookie jar – luckily, when I woke up the cookie was still resting in my mind.) After brainstorming for awhile, I got an answer: apparently, I was dreaming about a Shostakovich’s composition, nicely depicted by some strange figures, yet recognizable as a mental interpretation (somewhat delusional) of Klimt's work.I now realise I wasted my morning trying to fit the pieces together, instead of scheming the perfect plan to confine the self in such warmth only a bed provides.Oh well, it's never too late to join the __noon-nap__ pillow party.
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