Ghosts of Summers Past

Back in the nineties, I enjoyed staying up well into the night, just writing. I used to tell myself that it was the sound of the world asleep that helped the ideas flow. But there is something more to it. The sense of going against the grain of society, just like a modern day vampire. It adds a frisson all its own. For at night, one becomes someone else entirely. Even if only inside one’s mind.

The light of day brings clarity. It shines on one’s limitations, brings forth the smallest imperfections; it draws you inwards, as the world presses down on your…hesitation. Yes. One hesitates a lot more during the day hours. Things are less certain. The clarity of form, breeds insecurity about intent. Can you reach what you desire? If so, will it live up to your expectations?

Somehow you withdraw when life proves willing. Again, you feel insecure. Unsure about making the choice, taking the step, accepting the risk. Again, yes, you hesitate. You fear to miss the right choice of words, to provoke the careful filigree to dissolve in a hapless mess. You fear failure.  

Oh, but at night. The whole world changes. Working at night, especially in those hot summer nights when the sweat runs over your skin on the wee hours of the night, like a cool blanket of molten lava pouring from your erupting, feverish mind, the ghosts of the day come alive. And all of life palpitates with promise.

Loosing yourself on the stillness of the air, without the merest hint of a breeze to flutter the curtains, you’re the sorcerer supreme of your all multiverse of desire. All hesitation is gone. Action seems incapable of error. Imperfection is erased, failure not a possibility. What you have denied is now yours to grasp. The stuff of your dreams is now putty in your hands.

And once day comes again, its light is no longer frightening. Hesitancy is gone. Every trembling doubt is answered with crystal clarity in the afterglow of creativity. You have beaten the blank page. You poured your dreams into the world, bereft now of insecurity, naked for all to see. Unashamed. Confident.

Such is the intensity of realisation, that you erase yourself from the picture. Your dreams have taken form and, when morning comes, they’re all that remains. Like ghosts of hot summer nights.