Stampede

Sometimes my mind runs a race. It moves with the intensity of a sprint and the longevity of a marathon. Of course, this only happens when I’m desperate for sleep.
Several nights ago, I realized I drank caffeine just an hour before I tried to go to sleep. My synapses burned with enthusiasm for everything thought-provoking and creative. I considered writing an entire book since I was so wired. And in my delusion, I found myself thinking about – of all things – the Lion King.
I felt like Symba in the stampede. You know, the one his evil uncle starts in order to take the kingdom from his brother, where Symba’s desperate and naive. Just waiting to be rescued. But the dirt begins to rise, and the ground begins to shake. The wildebeest stampede.
My mind was trying to warp me away from any sleep and rest. I was running for my life, pleading for a branch to perch upon and escape the maddening speed with which my mind moved. Ideas and thoughts that had stewed for months boiled over and threatened to overtake me. At least, overtake my ability to sleep.
Eventually, in the middle of the night, the stampede gave way to an eery calm, and I slept.

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