The Demons of 4:30 a.m.

Again, I suddenly was wide awake at 4:30 in the morning. Insomnia. The Demons of 4:30 a.m. I had a premonition of this, a sort of aura similar to what an epileptic might encounter before a seizure. I was walking home from the PATH train after work, and I thought, "I bet I'll wake up at 4:30 in the morning tonight."

This time was different, though. And I can't help but attribute the diffference to the book I'm reading, the Shaman's Body, by Arnold Mindell. Usually, I wake up due to some dream-fueled spasm of anxiety. This time, I was right in the middle of a dream, but there was no anxiety. In my dream, I was outside, hob-knobbing with Governor George E. Pataki. We were getting along pretty well. At one point, I mentioned the non-profit organization I worked for before I came to Boss Sunshine's office. Then, in the dream, I was in a large room, like a suburban junior high school cafeteria. I recognized people I worked with at the old job, sitting around long tables, combing through files. They were being audited. I was wearing sunglasses and went unrecognized.

And then I woke up. Usually, this would prompt anxiety: what were they looking for? Had my conversation with the governor prompted the audit? (They receive substantial funding from New York State.) Would they uncover some evidence of negligence or dereliction of duty on my part that in my absence I wouldn't be able to defend myself against? All the small failures in my last job would come marching like the Macbeth's heirs, snowballing until I was devastated by the accumulated weight of all my failings. But this time (prompted by the book), I asked myself, 'What lesson have you come to teach me, Demons? I'm ready to hear it.'

I thought about myself as I appeared in the dream. I was lithe and muscular, standing erect, handsome, and self-confident and at ease, with a ready smile, when I was talking to the governor. The Governor. A powerful man, and I sensed the kindling of a sort of paternal relationship between us. Two courses of action presented themselves to me. First off, I thought of some advocacy work that I could do under the auspices of Boss Sunshine's office that would potentially help out my former agency. Second, maybe I should join the New York chapter of the Log Cabin Republicans. I'm gay, and I'm no longer considering myself to be a Democrat. LCR is a political club. There are other politicos out there besides Boss Sunshine. Politicos with whom I might find myself more in agreement with philosophically. Politicos who might not have such profound anger management issues. Maybe I should heed the call and come to Jesus.


Well, I'm still wide awake. But there's no anxiety. Thank you, Demons. If it wasn't for the odd hours you keep, I'd say, "Come again anytime."

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