Trading Daylight

It’s a quarter to one in the morning and I can’t sleep. I was warned this would happen. I lie there and can hear the blood in my veins as it rushes about my head. My sinuses are blocked so I can’t breathe properly and when I do sleep – an exhausted, fidgety sleep – I have nightmares. Last night I was lost and alone in a forest… and as I woke up it took a few moments to grasp that I was safe at home. It was 4:35am. After another trip to the loo, I crashed back into bed and the alarm sounded almost instantly… it was time to start another day.

I’m pretty sure this is no good for me. We all know the importance of a structured sleeping pattern, but the more I think about it, the more distant the land of nod seems to be. It’s odd that I struggle at night when I can’t seem to make it through the day without sleeping. There comes a point, mid-afternoon, that I will fall asleep whatever I’m doing. I feel it getting close, have to drive with the window down and pinch myself, and when I hit the pillow, I’m out like a light. But for this delicious slumber, I pay a heavy price. I am unwittingly trading hours of daylight for darkness.

I have tried reading but my mind is foggy. I read the words but somehow they don’t lodge in my brain. Twice, three times through and I simply give up. I worry that I’m being stupified by a lack of stimulation. I’m hoping that writing these words will be the catharsis I am looking for. My mind is quiet and my body is relaxed, but sleep is elusive. Tomorrow I will have all the grace of a charging rhinoceros and bags under my eyes that could be used for advertising. I could get the call at any time, so my bag is packed and I’m ready to go, but I could do with leaving right now. Wouldn’t that be something?