Today is April 5th and the strangest thing in this strange time is my new relationship with the Night.
When I was younger, can you recall, I was afraid of the dark, I was terrified of the owls hooting by my window and I was paralyzed by the idea of all these nocturnal beings living their lives when everyone was finally sleeping. The sound of the wind blowing through the trees gave me cold chills since I could feel the breeze meandering through my room until it caressed the back of my neck and I would hide under my blanket hoping that no harm would come to me. The whistling of the wind made me feel as if I could hear someone whispering words to my ears, and maybe this was true, but I did not dare to look. I used to tell you all of my fears about it, dear Diary, and I would stay up late at night to make sure I overcame all the weird things happening when dusk came.
This is no longer the case. When the Night falls, I like to say that this is my favourite part of the day: silence reigns as a king, the side of the world where I live is lit only by the light of the moon and when the moon is full, I sometimes hear wolves howling in the forest and this sparks my imagination on stories and legends about werewolves. Through the fog, I see the gleam of little fireflies flying, and this sight soothes me: they look like fairies lighting a path that only I were meant to see. When I let my gaze wander in the complete darkness of the Night, I see numerous small spheres, looking like shiny balls, and I understand that these are the eyes of all those nocturnal animals that do not yet want to unveil themselves entirely to me, but which, a little more each night, come closer, to prove their trust in me. To be honest, dear Diary, when the Night falls, I feel unique. I feel like I am Her confidante. I fell like She reveals all of Her secrets to me.
When it is time to close my eyes, to sleep and to let myself embark into the realm of dreams, I cannot do it. I hear every time, an incessant whisper that invites me to stay awake and head to my window as if magic was about to happen. Then, I approach my curtains floating in the cool, damp wind, and gently pull them apart to admire and abandon myself in this new landscape whose imposing shadow casts a great and majestic black space. I stand here, still, looking through my window and waiting for hours. Often, I accompany this waiting with the listening of Debussy's Clair de Lune or Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata and I cry with emotion in front of the beauty of these musical works which transcribe so perfectly what I feel, every night, in front of the splendour of a whole new world offering itself to me, and myself only, for all have closed their eyes and for no one else can see it.
How could I sleep when the Night’s wind invited me to look at all this magnificence?
How could I sleep when the music I had to hear was that of the symphony brought by the Night?
How would I ever sleep again, now that I have discovered all these treasures?
For a long time, I wondered if I could share this night experience with someone.
My mother would be the one who would best understand everything that happens to me at nightfall. Since my childhood, she has always taught me to cultivate a growing curiosity about all aspects of life, day and night, and to be mindful of the discreet, secret and hidden words of nature. But understanding is not feeling. She would never be able to feel, in the depths of her being, what I have the honor of experiencing at night. Even if she wanted to with her whole body, she couldn't. She was not chosen by the Night, and only I have the privilege of attending this spectacle. Finally, I resign myself to tell my mother nothing about this marvellous story that repeats itself every night. And then, if I was to reveal this secret to her, I would be afraid of betraying all the trust that the Night had placed in me. I have always lived this night's experience alone, and I shall continue to do so.
As you know it, dear Diary, I now have an intimate relationship with the Night. She speaks to me through the voices of Her nocturnal beings and the magic of Her sounds. I am content to respond to it by a thoughtful and delicate listening, and by devoting several hours each night to Her mysteries. Sometimes I stay awake for so long that I see the first rays of the sun and hear the first birds singing: announcing the dawn of a new day. Thus, when morning comes, I go back to sleep and wait all day for the Night to fall again, for I feel safe around the hooting of the owls and under the impenetrable darkness of the sky lit only by the twinkling of the stars. For I feel safe in this period from sunset to sunrise where I am the main character in a wonderful story that takes place in plain sight, but that no one can see.
Dear Diary, as you have understood, I have changed. When I was younger, I used to be afraid of the Night but now She and I are one. These last lines are for me the completion of a great feat: I have conquered my fears, I have overcome all these mysteries, and you have been by my side every moment, day and night.
Dear Diary, I am happy to confide to you that I now have a nocturnal mind.