'and the phantoms of the night..."

"will fade into the past." That quote, from, all things, Pippin seems totally appropriate to me at this moment--early Sunday morning---after a long night of "non-sleep". What is "non-sleep"? It is when I may be physically tired, but my mind does not want to rest---so I simply cannot find sleep. Where does my mind go? Everywhere---scenes from the past---trying to define my feelings now, so I can deal with them--a real "kitchen sink" of visions and explosions. A "double whammy", as it were, because during the day, my outside world, during the "social distancing" moment, I can consider far fewer alternatives then I could when my "dream world" (the world before March 16) was alive. Still, I can move around (the block, the neighborhood) But in the 12 P.M. to 6 A.M. corridor---I am stuck, there are simply no alternatives; I must remain in the apartment---my imagination is my only escape,--darkness is prevalent.
  Last night, in the apartment, actually watched the complete first act of The Nutcracker---really enjoyed it--Balanchine's richness and detail dominate the story in Act I. Have not seen the ballet in years, and thought that I knew it quite well, but watching it last night, showed me that there are still some things that surprised me. The longest I have watched a you tube presentation---I love Balanchine, my interest in City Ballet between 68 and about 81 defines much of my life during that time. Yet no matter how fulfilled I felt as the young boy and his girl friend entered the magic land that is Act II---it could not give me sleep. Also, in the afternoon, a short walk north on Madison Avenue from 79th to 96th street was not as satisfying as I might have liked.
   So here we are, Sunday morning--there is a Sondhein tribute tonight--will try to see it, But still in this "stasis" as far as life moving forward is concerned. When Governor Cuome lifts at least some of the restrictions, maybe I can complete the song:
                                      When the phantoms of the night
                                       Will fade into the past

                                        Morning Glow will come,
                                        At last