What is it about the late hours? They have a kind of tinny hollowness to them. I am reminded of the thin skinned luminosity of someone in their fifth day of fasting. Glazed and fragile but tenacious all at once. The inhibitors have retired so there is a very thin veil over naked thought. Adrenalin pumps. That figures into the immediacy.

Late night hours when the moon is high and piercing, the coyotes howl, thoughts have weight they shouldn't have.
Overtiredness, a prelude to overwhelm.
Stupid things sounding incisive. Incisive ideas feeling dull. Nothing to be proud of or boast about anymore: pulling an all-nighter to finish a project. It's just plain Dumb.

No wonder little ones tantrum when they are too long without rest. Mad at everything, they need to retreat. Every one does some time--need to pull back away from the whirl, into the center. Sleep does that. Brings you home, refreshes. Allows.

So let me allow sleep now.