To sleep, perchance to dream. Chea right!
There is nothing at all unusual about insomnia in an old guy and I wouldn’t suggest that I’m unique in this respect but I’ve always had a fairly dysfunctional relationship with sleep regardless of age. As a small child I was a certified sleepwalker of the type that would not simply get out of bed and appear at my parents bedside or roam the house aimlessly. I sleepwalked with purpose. There was the time, when I couldn’t have been much older than 6 or 7, where I made it all the way out the door, down the driveway and into the street in the middle of the night. As the story goes, when my mom caught up with me and asked where I was going, I replied that I was off to Jimmy Doyle’s house to play football. Jimmy lived a couple of blocks down the street. Needless to say I didn’t make it that far but I might have. I wonder what would have happened had I? We used to call out our friends back in the day, as it was fairly unheard of for a kid to knock on a door. I can imagine myself standing in his front yard at 3:00 am shouting, “Oh Jimmy!” while the neighbors peered out from behind their bedroom curtains; kind of creepy, right?
Speaking of creepy, I can pretty clearly remember some of my sleepwalking occurrences. Like the time I sat for what seemed like hours at the top of the basement stairs, peering eye level across the kitchen floor through the legs of the table and chairs, as a circle of little ghosts danced around the entrance to my bedroom door. Even though I don’t recall them as menacing, I thought it best to wait them out before returning to bed. Remember that I was asleep, so I’m not suggesting that the ghosts were actually present but the experience was vivid enough to stick with me after all these years, so maybe they were. My middle of the night wanderings became frequent enough that my mother took to lining up the chairs to block my exit so that my shuffling through them would alert and wake her up. The original zombie boy!
I don’t believe that this phenomenon lasted very long, merely a phase I went through but I’ve certainly always been a night owl with a reluctance to go to bed. I of course appreciate how gratifying sleep can be, having experienced it now and again. I often long for it with a jealous fervor but bottom line; I’ve just never been very good at it. It takes a worried man to sing a worried song and I bring my worries to bed by the bucketful. To make matters worse I lie awake next to a woman who sleeps the deep sleep of the righteous. While I’m still counting sheep she’s already sheered them and sent the wool to market. It does not matter what the day’s events bring, good or bad, when her head hits the pillow sleep come fast and true. I think it is the confidence and security that comes from living life right that rewards her the ease and comfort of sleep. Of course I’m just speculating as that peace of mind has always eluded me. Every sliver of light that breaks through the curtains and every drip-drop in the gutter may as well be the chimes of Big Ben to me. Every action of my environment and every earth shattering new development are diabolically designed to deny me sleep. How she manages to saw logs while Kim Jong-un stockpiles a nuclear arsenal and Nigel Cat slurps his nether regions at the foot of our bed is beyond me but I envy her greatly for it.
The following demonstrations are intended to be of some clinical benefit to the sleep deprived. Maybe you’ll recognize some of these positions and take comfort in knowing that your suffering is shared. Maybe you’ll learn a new approach that will aid you in your quest for that elusive snooze. I’ve used army men on a bed of gravel to try and accurately illustrate my personal journey with sleeplessness. Enjoy!
THE JACOB’S LADDER
A sort of climbing while prone position where I move my arms and legs up and down like a cat sharpening phantom claws. A common maneuvering attempt at marrying bed and body to try and climb the ladder to dreamland.
THE TWIST AND SHOUT
Workin’ it on out, all night long.
THE PACK-A-SNACK, WE MIGHT BE HERE A WHILE
My go to position albeit usually without the lunchbox. On my side, arm tucked under pillow, one leg climbing the mattress. If this doesn’t work at the onset, I know I’m in for a long, long night.
THE CLAIMS ADJUSTOR
You know how it is fellas; sometimes you just can’t get things to lay smooth. Sometimes the tres hombres are infighting. Sometimes the string trio is playing out of tune. Sometimes one guy is hogging the remote. Sometimes you’ve got a troublemaker riding shotgun but you’d prefer him in the backseat where he can’t grab the wheel. There will be no peace until these boys are separated.
THE BELLYACHE
Eight Jack in the Box tacos after 11:00 pm? Really? You don’t deserve to sleep.
THE TEN PAST TEN
Occasionally I allow myself to believe that by simply winding my entire body, clockwise round the bed, I just might locate that sweet spot that results in sleep. If I’m lucky enough to have success, the alarm will likely go off shortly thereafter.
THE HAND JIVE
Many are the nights when you just don’t know what to do with your arms to get comfortable. You tuck them, you throw them, you wave them around like Bruce Lee fighting Kareem Abdul-Jabbar* but you just can’t seem to find a proper place for them. The worst. *Thanks Peter Slayton!
THE ARE YOU THERE GOD? IT’S ME, MARGARET.
This position generally comes in the middle of a restless night where I lie in bed pleading and praying to God to deliver a brief respite, to grant me the sweet relief of slumber. On the nights when God does not pick up, I generally head downstairs to fulfill my assumed penance of watching a Brown & Brown infomercial. On a good night, Mother Brown’s recollections of growing up as a little girl in Alton Illinois will have the same effect as Triazolam.
THE PULL-UP
Another common maneuver aimed at stretching out the day’s tensions and purging that negative energy through the fingertips.
THE KENTUCKY COLONEL
Not really a sleeping position, more of a recurring dream I’ve been having.
THE BEDPOST MITTENS
When sticking your bubblegum to the bedpost while wearing mittens is the easiest part of your falling asleep routine, you know you are in for a rough one.
THE SLEEPWALKER
When you pace around outside of the bed in a semi-somnambulant state of agitation. Could be a return trip from the bathroom, could be after letting the cat out the back door or it could be a Brown & Brown induced hallucinatory, Grateful Dead at The Mississippi River Festival, jam session, hula-hooping, dream-state experience.
THE RESTLESS LEG
All this and Willis-Ekbom Disease too. #willisfbomb
THE CAN WE TURN THE AIR CONDITIONER ON YET? IT’S THE THIRD WEEK OF JUNE!
Most commonly experienced by men with frugal wives, this particular position is characterized by triple digit interior bedroom temperatures, pooling puddles of sweat, sticky sheets and open windows “so we can enjoy all of those summer sounds”, which your thrifty wife imagines as whippoorwills, bullfrogs and far away train whistles but in reality is more a cacophony of riotous ducks, Highway 370 crotch rockets and drunken revelers racing down the street blaring Luke Bryan from golf cart stereo systems with synchronized LED light show at 2:00 am but it doesn’t matter a lick to her anyhow because she was sound asleep three minutes after her head hit the pillow while your suffering continues unabated.
THE FACE PLANT
Sometimes you just have to drop down and hope for the best.
THE FETAL FILM-FLAM
Who the hell set the air conditioner on 63 degrees? Menopause is my enemy tonight!
THE KHARTOUM, KHARTOUM
Okay, I’ve yet to experience a horse head in my bed but who doesn’t enjoy a good Godfather reference?
THE FREEFALL
The key to coping with insomnia is knowing when to hang in there and knowing when to bail.
Goodnight everybody!