Sleep is my sanctuary. My time to rest, relax, restore, maybe catch some Zs. I’ve done backflips, tumbled, leaped, but now, alas, it’s time to fall. Finally, I can relinquish the reins to my subconscious. It’s when I can forget about the day’s gymnastics and take a seat in an empty cinema for a banal, fleeting screening. 

I’d much rather prefer the cartwheels, though. The balancing act of it all. I’ve equipped myself to adapt to it, time after time, and it is now a constant. The unexpectedness of each day is a constant in itself. Safety measures, in the name of coping mechanisms, have been hammered in. This self-preservation appears in many forms: a coffee, a comfort T.V. show, or an overstimulating feeling arisen from scrolling. Whatever it be, it minimizes any hardship that may occur. 

All risks are eliminated, for I can’t give my subconscious any excuse to surprise me later. I’ve surrounded myself in circles of nurturing and kind relationships. I have tried my best to create narratives that I wouldn’t mind watching in that dark cinema with only one seat. At the end of the day, I lay with comfort that the process will work and those comforts will follow me to REM. 

However, sometimes, more often than preferred, the opposite happens. Those conflicts that have been repressed are left for sleep to resolve. The sanctuary is broken. Past battles must be dealt with for my lucid self.

Knock. Knock. 

The unsolicited, uninvited, unsought for, unrequested- whatever it may be- presence is here. 

I surely wasn’t expecting them. I was anticipating a routine screening- the kind you forget about the next day. The kind that would never sell in the box office. The intruder is here, though, wearing a familiar face. In this land of dreamworld, I have no sovereignty as reins have been renounced. The door must be opened. Play will be pressed, the dances will be danced, the songs will be sung, and I might just remember the entire plot in the morning. 

It happened. It’s not over though because you are left with questions. What does this mean? Does it mean something in real life? Was this a sign? Do I ignore it? They open a narrative, you’ve tried too hard to avoid. The subconscious opened the door to an isolating journey. 

These uninvited guests are not strangers to us. They appear, knock on the door, and leave us with confusion. The control we’ve tried so hard to possess ceases routinely. We become susceptible to this irregularity and unfamiliarity, so there is no point in ignoring it. Repressing conflicts only postpones them for your subconscious to deal with. Though we toil for constancy in our lives, we must also account for the constant that is, unpredictability. The isolating journey can transform to an enlightening one if we willingly relinquish control to begin exploring.

The next time you hear a knock, let them in. Let your past ghosts, unfulfilled dreams, or anticipatory anxieties in. The intrusion can instead be a moment of reflection. A much needed one.

Illustration: Amelia Tran