Getting up at six o’clock, one can enjoy the twilight for almost an hour, from the early darkness with a diffusion of light almost purple-ish to nearly seven o’clock when the morning light, obscured by thick clouds, arrives reluctantly. Turning on the light will spoil the natural grey mixture of light and shadow; not turning on the light gives the windows a quiet illumination, full of promise and hope. Of what? I don’t know, probably saying something like, “the virus will be gone soon.”
I haven’t got up this early for quite a while. Sheltering at home for so long, napping often during the afternoon hours, staying awake after midnight has made any attempt at early rise impossible. Well, impossible except today. No grogginess, no wish to go back to sleep, no thoughts about the depressing news of the general chaos of the world. I had a wonderful dream, which was disrupted by my mad run to the bathroom, which was retained vivid in my mind after the disruption. Sometimes I could come back to bed and continue the dream, but not today. Still, the euphoria stayed. So I lay there, awake, but not wishing to be awake, dreaming of my dream that ended too soon.