My frontal lobe starts dancing around 2 a.m.
It brings several things to the dance. Pictures, words, thoughts, songs. It skips and sings in my head, gleefully interrupting my sleep and invading my dreams. It gives hints of the song it’s dancing to, but teases and changes the tune and direction multiple times before taking off it’s tap/ballet shoes and settling back down for the rest of the night.
While the rest of my brain does its best to ignore the activity and sleep through it, the music eventually wins out and other parts begin to join the frontal lobe in its frolicking. These other lobes begin to add their contributions to the dance – jumpy legs, remembering the “things I have to do” list, the sudden need to use the bathroom, the craving for a little more chocolate.
I’m too old for parties that start at 2 a.m.
Still, the song intrigues me. I want to remember its tune, its words, its steps, its thoughts so that I can write them down later at a reasonable hour and watch the whole dance come together in the light of day.
But somehow by sunrise, the music has vanished and all that’s left is a vague shadowy memory of the party in my head just hours before. I still remember the feeling of the dance joining hands with my dreams and leaving me with something beautiful and profound, but the details evade me. I grasp and wish and beg for the words and thoughts and tune to come back, but I can only hear them giggling with my frontal lobe about the fun they had in the dark of the night. As if they have played the best prank on me and are enjoying the aftermath of my angst over it all.
But I have a plan. I will outsmart my frontal lobe. I will set a pen and paper by my bed. I will be ready. When the party is nearly over, I will conspire with my parietal lobe and together we will write down what we have just witnessed. We will capture the words and make them last. We will grab the notes and scribble them down so the tune goes on. We will jot down the fleeting thoughts that come with the dance and pen them so that they don’t disappear when the sun comes up.
My frontal lobe will try to have a party again soon. Maybe tonight. But I will be ready for him and his dance partners. And maybe, eventually, I will convince him to have his parties during the day so that we can all skip and jump and sing together in a time and place that doesn’t rob me of my much needed sleep!
