Hostel destroyed my sleep cycle. I used to sleep before 11pm, but now I can't as I find myself being flooded with things to do (or the lack thereof) that I need to accomplish before I retreat into bed. As much as I know how bad late sleeping is detrimental to one's health, I can't find a reason compelling enough to overcome that feeling of wanting to make use of some extra hours doing things rather than to go into unconsciousness. As such, I have been waking up later and later in the mornings. If not for the fact that I'm excused from school to attend NUS lectures (which I often arrive late for as the semester progressed), I would have been late much more frequently than I already am.
I have to find some motivation to wake up in time, instead of waking up such that I would reach school precariously near 7:45 am. What motivated me to do so before hostel is disappointingly no longer there, so it would take great, pure discipline for me to bother coming to school earlier than needed. This nonchalant attitude I have seem to be accumulating over the last year, with the increasing frustrations I have with the system and my despondency with my personal character and life.
In addition, the early release from lessons on a few days of the week has given laziness much opportunity to strike me when I see my quiet home and the ostensibly long time left till dinner. Many times, going to sleep is actually just an escape for me from the many troubling and convoluting thoughts pervading various aspects of my life, to preserve my sanity. It could be said that many traits during hostel life has been brought back even after that ordeal is over; I continue to face one, manifesting itself in a different form. As such, I spend much of my time in unconsciousness. If I gathered all the naptimes I had, I would have had greater efficiency and not received so much laments from myself, especially since I usually complain about the surfeit of work to be done and the dearth of time students have later.
Have been thinking a lot recently, evident in the dreams I had last week. As usual, during the good friday long weekend, I spent most of my time getting some shuteye. In one of the dreams I had, a double decker bus was speeding across the cross junction when it crashed into a triple decker bus. That triple decker bus spun crazily, did a few somersaults and cartwheels across the road to my disbelief, and landed on its side. I was observing from a bird's eye view so I reached my hand down and lifted the cover off the triple decker bus, when people started to climb out and crazily everyone was in good shape.
In another dream I dreamt that two great physics teachers from my school opened an ABRSM music studio, where I had to go to to practice for my non-existent piano exam. I fumbled through the last movement of the moonlight sonata and they were secretly listening to me outside. The next thing I knew I was on the front covers the next day, which said something like music major is a scam can't play the piano properly etc...
But nothing beat the following; most elaborate dream I had on a dreary Saturday afternoon. I dreamt that I knew a little mischievous kid in a world called ritworld, and I learnt of his story that he was actually exiled into this fictitious world one day while playing a set of cards with his brother. He drew this card called a ritcard which caused a spirit to possess him, leaving his physical body hanging in midair in greyworld (the real world) and sending his soul to ritworld, where he is trapped. Strange resemblance to Zathura or Jumanji. Anyway, many years passed and he grew up. One day a bandit came to attack his village, which I learnt that as a child, they were once friends, but he sat fire to the bandit's carriage which caused them to go with their separate ways. They eventually reconciled and helped each other to escape the captivity of ritworld.
I find my imagination strange. Its 1:09 am now. I want to sleep.
