~ A call at midnight ~

Jack London said: “For most people, life is like a bad time. They stand and wait to pass.” There are other ones that time is always missing. They use a variety of tricks to reach it, they even steal it. They steal it from night. In the kingdom of darkness and silence, they quietly go to their secret gardens and steal time for reflection and reverie. Even the gods favor them, so they donate time to love them in the small hours. The night, mysterious and unpredictable, is always a challenge for restless spirits. Fear reigns in the depths of the shadows. We don’t see it, but we can feel its presence. The courage succumbs slowly in front of its abyss, inborn somewhere deep inside ourselves, inherited from some terrified far ancestor. Fear maddening and clouds the mind and it is the main source of human crime. In the dark labyrinth he runs away from small and large, of old age and poor, from evil words and evil diseases, of deserted woods and empty rooms, the voice of the unknown and unfamiliar steps, he flees from the threat and destruction, deceit and traps, despair and madness. In the deep darkness and silence, strolling along the kingdom of his spirit, a man, not knowing enough of himself and unable to defeat fear, often hears the inaudible, see the invisible. Nothing in the night is not as great importance as the moment when the clockwise covered, when in eerie silence clocks start ticking midnight. At that moment, awakened from a half-sleep, we fight with a bunch of thoughts that persistently coming like a river after the rain. Another day is behind us, life inevitably passes, a new day begins and who knows what it brings. Those, to whom the day was bad, just waiting for it to finish and to leave it behind them, and some complain that it ended, maybe that day was one of the best days of their lives. In that separation of time it looks like two invisible worlds are being separated: one oriented towards the past, the other to the future. Those, who are not afraid to look back in time, are ready for the arrival of a new day. Those, who run away from the past, rush into the future for fear that they do not miss anything. And again, all together, brave and timid, patient and impatient, slow and fast, we can not resist time. Each of its midnight tirelessly informs us that we are powerless. Some in the impotence increases with life; some are born at midnight and the end of life they are not sure when their birthday is, some are afraid of ghosts and vampires, so wide-eyed and staring into the darkness and waiting for midnight to pass, and for some midnight is inspiring and sensual. There is also a very interesting kind of people who wake up at midnight. Somehow they considered all the uncertainty and silence and try to undermine the noise: they eat, banging, rummaging through things, and, most of all, they like to call. As if they were just at that moment remembered something very important, they consistently turn to numbers and call, selfishly impair one’s dreams in the night. More selfish, they persistently are apologizing due to a broken dream. There are also one more interesting types of people, as they are called Guardians of the Night, whose spend their entire life in the vigil and anticipation. They always respond to calls, and they are the happiest in the world when somebody calls them at midnight. They are convinced that someone is thinking of them, that they are not forgotten, but they do not realize that they are just victims of those who wake up at midnight. It is good as long as they do not realize it, because the call at midnight could save someone’s life, or at least to delay its end. Vietnamese proverb says that the only one who can not sleep knows how long night is. And what about those who are dreaming awake?
A call at midnight, author Suzana Stojanović, August 5, 2015