Darkness

When I was a child, I had dimly-lit nightmares. Something bad, or something urgent, would be happening, and yet the light would not be bright enough for me to see what I had to do. I would rush around, flipping light switches, and yet the light cast from the bulbs would just be absorbed by the overwhelming darkness. As a result, I've always loved bright light.

I am continually reminded of those old dreams these days. We are past our thirtieth straight day of rain here, and it has become so ridiculous that locals are complaining that they can't handle much more rain. It is so dark and cloudy.

Chris identified what makes it harder: the lack of snow. We are used to winter being glaringly bright. In Saskatchewan, my sunglasses get the most usage during the winter time. Here, the nights are even darker, because there's no snow to reflect any available light.

I would not claim that either Chris or I have Seasonal Affectedness Disorder, and yet this much darkness gets to us, in ways. I finally figured out why it's so hard to wake up in the morning: it's still so dark outside that, even though I've had more than a full nights' sleep, it still feels like night.