Sleeplessness is a drug. A mind altering medium. The cheapest on the market, available to anyone. As appealing in its own way as nicotine, alcohol, caffeine, and illegal substances of choice. Offering the same sort of trap.

True, most of the day-to-day sleep deprivation is uninspiring. The zombie sludge renders everything into dull greys. But every now and again, clarity breaks through. The mind opens wide; the thoughtstreams flood past their native boundaries, they puddle together like films of color on oil slicks. I enter the flow.

The flow is real. Evidence confirms its fleeting existence. This last week or so, for instance, I’ve made some real steps forward on various creative ventures. But even when I’m making progress there’s an hallucinatory air about it. I feel fortified during those hours. The obstacles ahead lose their opacity. The heavy lifting sheds its weight. I can see the world beyond the constraints of the present. At 2:00 a.m. all my plans seem possible. The likelihood that I’m going to be too tired to do any of it doesn’t occur to me at those times.

I suppose it’s a slight case of fatigue-induced hypomania. But it’s a powerful draw. Especially now when there is so much in my circumstances I would prefer to transcend. Yet somehow I have to engrave it into my brain that I will not be able to achieve that goal with only a few good hours every month or so.

Were those moments more frequent when I was younger? I couldn’t say. Maybe it was easier to convince myself. Recovery times were likely shorter. Were there fewer demands on my energy or was it just a case of more energy to spare? Whatever the case, the returns are certainly diminishing at this stage of my life.

I should note that I don’t deliberately set out to produce this altered state. The origins of my disordered sleep have such deep roots, there’s no telling where it starts. It’s been part of my make-up as far back as I can remember. I’m merely observing that along the way I’ve “learned” however unconsciously or semiconsciously, that sleep deprivation produces this effect. The reward has done its conditioning work sufficiently; least resistance wins.

Back when I was still smoking, I noticed that perhaps one cigarette out of a pack, if that many, actually could be described as a good experience. The rest I barely noticed. I used that observation to advantage when I quit. Why not just smoke the good ones and skip the rest? That’s more or less what I did, with the resulting irony that the cigarettes of those last three or four months were probably the most savored and enjoyed out of all the years I smoked.

I’m not sure how the principle applies here. It’s not like I can abstain from staying awake in the same way I could taper my cigarette intake.

The obvious next step would be to find other, healthier, ways of inducing this kind of mental expansion, elevation. Photo rambles, meditation, exercise, painting, writing — each of these can transform my mental reality.  Each in its own way. They can reinforce but not substitute for each other.

Then again, at this stage, being rested and clear might cause hallucinations in its own right.