Nightmare

The light comes on at 8:00 p.m. and goes off at 10:30 p.m. You managed to charge your phone and your laptop, but it's no worry at all because the rickety generator comes on until 12:00 a.m. (you know, fuel is expensive, rationing...). You happen to charge your phone and laptop more before 12 while praying that the human beings responsible for flipping the switch and giving you light do their job. Spoiler alert... they don't.

You feel sleepy, so you hibernate your laptop and plug your phone down just in case those human beings somewhere decide to flip the switch at 2:30 a.m. You flutter your cover cloth so that it spreads over your entire body. It is going to be a dramatic night, you know this. No sooner had you covered yourself than the bells start ringing. This is the beginning of your nightmare. You push against the cover cloth, and for a second or two the buzzing dissipates... then it come back again, this time at your right ear. The mosquitoes, the elements of your nightmare.

You read the other day that these little vampires are attracted to the carbon dioxide in your breath, and the heat from your body, and the smell of your sweat. The heat... of course the heat. Why won't they be attracted to the heat when the fan can't work? Even the cover cloth traps more heat. You sigh. Another mosquito comes buzzing at your left ear. You push at it from inside and a brisk silence ensues yet again. You change your sleeping position. Another mosquito comes singing at your right ear. Jeez! Give me a break, you think aloud. And how do they know exactly where the ear is when your whole body is covered? Little witches and wizards. They can't bite you through the cloth, but they sure as hell won't let you sleep. Why do mosquitoes exist, what purpose do they serve? You ponder.

You know you have to sleep somehow, your mood tomorrow depends on this. You fall in and out of lucid sleep. The heat is getting to you. You're sweating, and it's like you're going to die in that cover cloth. You drift again and it feels like five minutes when you wake. You can't take this any longer. Fuck it, you say, you throw the cover cloth to the side. You pick up your phone and check the time, it's 3:00 a.m. You wear your flip-flops and crawl through the darkness for the generator. It's dead silent outside, and you know you're about to cause one hell of a noise. But it isn't your fault, you live in a third-world country and they still haven't figured out constant electricity. You pull the cord and the generator comes on. It's so loud, but you grow a thick skin. You would feel better if the generator's sound was stable, but it has been up and down for days now, you don't even want to think about repairs.

You get back inside and set the fan at 2. The fan makes one hell of a noise because of the generator, it's mimicking the generator's erratic supply. You can't complain, it's better than the heat. At least now the mosquitoes will have a hard time flying against the gale. You try so hard to sleep, but it is hard to sleep back when you forcefully wake at 3:00 a.m. because in your brain you're fully awake. At some point in time, you drift into lucid sleep, it's like you're both asleep and awake at the same time.

When you wake up, it's bright outside. You reach for your phone hoping you overslept, but it's just 7:00 a.m. Today might be a bad day, it depends. You freshen up and set out. Just as you lock the gate from outside you hear that all-too-familiar lengthy blare of the electric bell. Light is back.