I no longer know if I ever fall asleep. If I do, I remain outside of sleep itself, in that constantly moving ring of icy asteroids that circles the dark and immobile hollow of oblivion. It is as if I never enter that shadowy vacuum. I toss and turn, literally, in the zone around it, which is as vast as a world, and actually is the world. I do not lose consciousness. I remain within myself. Thought accompanies me. I don't know if this thought is different from that of full wakefulness; it is, at any rate, very similar.
This is how I spend my nights. To entertain myself, I remember conversations I've had with friends during the day: each night, those of the same day. Every day these conversations give me material for memory. Since I stopped working, I've had nothing better to do than get together with my friends and converse for whole afternoons. I've often wondered if my lack of employment is the reason for my sleep disturbance, because before, when I used to work, I slept normally, like everybody else.
The beginning of Conversations by Cesar Aira
A recommended read.
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