I was slowly waking up and lying in bed with my eyes closed and the first thought that crossed my mind was, "Who are you?" I thought that was too deep a question to have in the middle of the night and I could not answer it. I dismissed it quickly from my mind and got up to let the dog out. That was a less cerebral activity for me to take care of rather than think existential thoughts.
I put on my bathrobe and made a pot of coffee. I turned on the computer and answered emails and read other people's blogs. The whole time I did that, I ignored that thought I'd had when I first started waking up. Now that I'm done with all those activities it's begging to be answered, but I'm loathe to answer it because how can I?
How can I say who I am in a few easy sentences? I'm either going to have to dismiss the question all together or write an autobiography and that's way too much work. I don't know why I had that thought in the first place and what an odd one to have first thing when you still have your eyes closed and your mind starts to wake up.
I suppose I found myself alone in my bed and became aware of my solitariness as a human being in the great world. I realized I was just a tiny little cog in a very large machine and that I counted for hardly anything at all. I must have thought this in a split second in the darkness before I opened my eyes. I guess I felt my aloneness as all human beings eventually feel theirs.
I thought you didn't feel that until your dying hour and I suppose I felt it prematurely for some reason. I don't know if I had a dream just before it. I don't remember one. All I remember is darkness and silence, as if I had been out in the universe where someone had forgotten to turn the stars on.
Do we have to say who we are after we die? Is there a question that we have to answer? Do we have to say that we were the best possible human being we could have been? What if we chastise ourselves for all the things we didn't do? Are we forgiven?
I'm still discovering who I am, although I have a strong suspicion that I knew who I was a long time ago before life got a hold of me and filled me with my neuroses. Add some deep seated psychological pain and you've got the end product. Well, not the end product. It isn't over until the fat lady sings and she's nowhere in sight. I'll go listen to her aria at the very end. Until that time I've got a lot of work to do.
I hope you all are having a good night. I'm going to sleep some more shortly. I hope I don't get anymore existential questions. One of those every now and then is enough, although it does give you food for thought. That's not too bad.