As a blind individual, my life is a symphony of sounds and sensations, a dance with the unseen rhythms of the world. Today, I awoke at 11:30 AM, having gone to bed around midnight. The night was a patchwork of dreams and silence, but I mostly slept like a stone.
Having finally awakened Feeling refreshed, I’m hopeful that my sleep cycle is aligning itself once more. It’s a delicate balance, one that’s been disrupted by erratic hours of rest—two hours one night, twelve the next. The interruptions during the night are unwelcome, and I’ve contemplated rearranging my bedroom to find solace from the noise of my neighbors, which I know they just can’t help generating at times. “It’s a thin-walled building!”
Would rearranging my bedroom help? I’m currently thinking, “Not.”
The walls seem to whisper their stories at the strangest times, a blend of muffled dogs barking, cellphones vibrating, conversations, angry voices, pleasant conversations, and laughter, while the floorboards carry the sounds of dropped things plus footsteps next door and below. “There’s no getting away from any of that in this place and I doubt any other complex in the area would be much better.”
Yet, I remain optimistic. I hear whispers of change on the horizon, and I believe I’ll find peace. As a blind person, my dreams are vivid and full of potential.
They say, “One can dream!” And… So, I do, envisioning a future where the noise fades and tranquility reigns. Can you say, “Reality Creation and Manifestation?”