When you have insomnia, you’re never really asleep, and you’re never awake.
Antiquity is bestowed on the place in every corner. Everywhere you look there lies an original and ancient look tidying up the place. The front counter is surrounded by great paintings. There are multiple coffee makers collected from many places. The cultural, and yet the modern webs gave the place a peculiar view.
Today’s salon (a regular meeting of writers, artists…) was about healing. Since almost everyone had a pain of their own, the issue was not to be taken lightly. The new member of the group, Mr. Cynic, started by saying there is no way one can be healed completely. All the eyes looked in his direction. He took a sip of his coffee and continued. “If pain is inevitable, and life is a continuum reality of pain, hardship, and disappointment, how is it possible for the ultimate existence of healing?” Anxiety pressed her lips and continued to consume her latte with all fury there is. While trying her best in monitoring her tone, she uttered a mumble. Mr. Cynic looked in her direction. She sighed again and said, “you cannot possibly think that’s a mere definition of life, can you? If so, how dark your life must be? If it was not for the hope of better days and alleviation of pain, how can anyone get out of bed to live for today? Do you even hear yourself?” The last two sentences were filled with uncontrolled vibration and a hint of disgust. “All I’m trying to say is,” continued Mr. Cynic, “there is no absolute state of healing where one can reach. Yes, I agree with what you have said, at least partly. My point is that you could find a way to manage your pain or even alleviate it to some extent. But, can we call that a healed state?”
Lady Creativity cleared her throat and said, “I get what you are trying to say, Mr. Cynic. But I think there is that level of inner peace and ultimate cordial state of oneself, after all. In a heat of the moment, that could seem like a very far-fetched phase. My question is this: when you say healing, are you trying to say the restoration of one’s health to a previous state or is there a new state one can reach to?” Mr. Exhaustion pulled his strength to point out his belief. “If healing is defined as restoration, I will definitely side with the newbie here. There is no way one can ever fully wipe out his fatigue with or without time. But, a new kind of health is a little bit of something we don’t know. So I believe there may be is that kind of healing.”
While Exhaustion was talking Ms. Over-thinker was looking for a quote she read on the left wall of the coffee shop.
“One always has exaggerated ideas about what one doesn’t know.” Albert Camus. “The Stranger.”
As soon as he was done talking she read the quote out loud. Multiple pairs of eyes shifted towards the left. “I’m just saying,” continued Ms. Over-thinker while fidgeting her fingers through a strand of her hair. “What if we are thinking high of this new state since we do not know about it? Can we really rely on this definition of healing for something we don’t really know? I do not believe in complete restoration for that matter, but I cannot, in my right mind, settle for something I cannot comprehend let alone define in my own words.” Ms. Coffee rose to refresh their drink and to help Mr. Tea around the counter since new customers were entering the shop.
“So what if you cannot comprehend it? Can you not imagine it?” Ms. Imagination followed. “If you can think about it this much, you already have a map for it. And if you can imagine it, I think it’s powerful enough to exist.” She continued to fill on her chocolate cookie. All of them were staring at her as if she was an alien of some sort. That was classic Imagination. She was too naïve for this world. For her, life was that simple definition that can be articulated in her mind without being sifted through the crude reality.
Not a single person dared to say anything after her last comment. This was a new level of innocence she portrayed today. Mr. Stress, who was sensing the intense atmosphere, broke the silence with the quickest wit he could think of. “If life was always bright, we wouldn’t have invented flashlight, would we?” He grinned to himself. Everyone smiled at that comment. “Look Hallucination (he was the one who gave Imagination this name, and she did not like it), you may think just the way you said it. But life is not all about imagination. If that’s the case, it is a hallucination. It cannot be real. Imagination is a sprinkle of life. You cannot really define the main dish with an extra of your dessert. For the record, I do not think stress/pain can ever be fully overcome. I’m with Mr. Cynic on this one.”
The debate continued for quite some time. It got so late that the city was starting to sleep. Silence and darkness reigned the town except for this one corner. Insomnia was the greatest bonding feature for the customers of this place. They no longer see it as a problem or negative quality. The solace of being awake and cautious of your surrounding was a blessing rather than a curse. For Creativity, it was one of her favorite hours. Ms. Over-thinker shines during the nighttime. The betrothed couple, Anxiety and Stress, wouldn’t call it a blessing per se. And yet it wouldn’t be the worst part of the day. Mr. Cynic never had a fondness for sleep. His underlying question about the matter was his wonder about dreams and where exactly sleep would take him. Almost all of them were always awake even if they miss a visit to the café. But can you really be awake when you have insomnia? That was a real inquiry.
But later that night, at her home, Lady Creativity scribed these words. Healing is, well, healing. No one has ever reached the ultimate state. Even if they say they do, it is impossible not to imagine they are probably just saying it out of denial or temporary relief of some sort. But I would be delighted if they really achieve it as they actually say. Based on my own keen observation, I must say, healing is neither a restoration nor abolition of pain. It is rather a new contract signed with pain and scar. Whoever felt intense pain, is doomed to live with the scars it resulted. And a scar is never to be replaced with new skin nor to be the way it was. And pain is a constant company. It is highly unlikely for it to leave once it is acquainted.
As she put down her pen, she looked right at her husband. She was engulfed with immediate joy when she saw he was sleeping today. Mr. Depression moved to his other side as if he felt her stare. She stood up to brew herself, yet another coffee. The night was almost ending, and she was creating.
Unabridged Manuscripts 
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