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In an Article on Sleep Research, I Read that Body Temperature Drops in the Middle of the Night By Jackie Bartley Half-way through the night, around three or four AM, the body cools like a spoonful of soup raised to the lips of a dream. We sink like Jonah into the whale's mouth where the light is cracked and dim, enter as if drugged landscapes built like the great medieval cathedrals, through several lifetimes, architects, guildsmen, none of them alive when spires and steeples at last spanned the space between earth and sky. And then dreaming begins. Some remember and some do not, but in those places--the grocery store, the cemetery, the attic of a sprawling mansion, the crawlspace in a cramped basement-- our saints and shadows shake off the damp of their birth and speak for us or tell us their secrets. And so, vision comes when we are a few degrees closer to death, when reason breaks like an egg dropped early from the nest. Cool, fragile country we visit, our passport, this small token of heat, where all are native and all are exiled from birth. |
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Document last modified on: 02/17/2003