Rain and sleep

I have not been able to sleep well at night because of the thunderstorms. The sound of the thunder and the dripping of the water onto the airconditioning unit on my bedroom wall is too much of a din for me to ignore and nod off, even though I am dying for some shut-eye.

I get into my bed around midnight, praying that there will be no stormy clouds tonight. There is a pleasantly hazy interval when I drift off into a semi-conscious state to dream. I start off thinking about things I have to do such as dropping off the laundry the next morning, picking up some youghurt for breakfast and calling my mother. Then as I relax my mind meanders and I have fantasies of ambling along to the cafes in Islington with M., swimming with a school of silver fish in the Red Sea, lazy, imaginary conversations with old friends, visions of clear blue sky and white sand in Fiji and so on.

The next thing I know, I have come back to my senses to hear the all too familar dripping of water outside my window. I look at the clock - it is 3 a.m. and the wind and rain is howling outside. There is a dramatic roll of thunder and I realise with a groan that I am most likely to be kept awake for at least another hour.

"Did you hear the storm last night?"
I ask colleagues the next morning. They usually look bewildered.
"What storm?"
They ask back. Clearly I have not lived in Hong Kong for long enough.