I lay in darkness the colour of pitch

I feel too hot. I hope that doesn’t mean sleep won’t come. There are teenagers laughing somewhere outside the window. Oh, to be young again! When you don’t worry who you might be waking up as you loudly carouse on the suburban streets.
Both cats, red and brown are with me. 11 pm. The hour that, I hope, brings sleep. Sleep, often overlooked in this world of sleeplessness, when everything is 24 hours. Fuck the night fuck the day: there is no time anymore.

Outside the window it is noisy: cars, people and outside sounds. Traffic sounds growing softer as cars disappear into the dark hills and then a sudden SHUSH of wind. It’s never quiet. I like these ambient sounds. The constant hum, it’s comforting, it reminds me I’m alive.

The cool night air is ghosting around our bedroom, I’m grateful for it. It soothes me. My eyes hurt. I feel in many ways they have been open for too long today.

I want to end this dialogue with a story. It was told to me on Saturday night as a very young child. I lay in darkness the colour of pitch.

There was a man performing on stage in a theatre. He was very popular and well loved by his audience but he never so showed his real face. He wore a succession of masks. He sat in his dressing room staring at his face in the mirror.

That’s it, that is all I remember. I don’t even remember the point of the story. Nor the moral, if there was one, of course.

I have tried counting

I can’t sleep. Illumination from window. I feel sick. And I feel awake. Wakefulness when you want to sleep is frustrating. It’s not like you want to get up and do something else or even just lie in bed and read. It’s like a form of boredom. A flatness of mood. Everything feels uninteresting.

I’m grateful that I rare suffer with sleeping difficulties now. Though, they were different: whirring thoughts, rumination and the like. But this is just feeling of being too awake to sleep but too tired and too lethargic to get up. I feel in a strange way over stimulated, my body feels uncomfortable against the sheets, like all my nerve endings are aggravated and longing for numbness.

I just want to fall asleep. You are asleep. The cats are asleep. It’s just me and the man who delivers the newspapers to the shop below who talks noisily in a different language on his mobile phone. My eyes hurt and my scalp itches and I can’t find a comfortable position for legs. I sigh. My brain feels funny from a lack of anti-depressants. Your skin feels soft.

I have tried counting. I have tried tapping. 254 taps in a count of 100. I yawn. I breathe. I feel slightly sick. I wonder if this is distracting me. I hope so. I hope I fall asleep when I finish. I would welcome some dreaming. Good dreaming. An adventure. You are rolling over and you are in the middle of the bed. The windows are closed so I can’t hear birds. But I know they are dawn chorusing. My wrist aches from holding the phone. Please sleep, I implore you, come soon. Dreams come soon. I am going to miss the postman. The postal worker. The post-person. I don’t know the appropriate term. Postie?

I’ve turned on my side. My left hand is filling with blood and I have slight pins and needles. What a strange term: pins and needles. A numbness, a buzzing sensation in my left wrist as the blood returns to it. My body longs for sleep. My eyes hurt. They feel dry and heavy. The ends of my fingers on my left hand are still slightly numb.

Come sleep, I implore you.

Is my brain tired or just bored. Is boredom the result of over-stimulation or under-stimulation? I think the former. Though I can be released from boredom by stimulation, like boredom was born out of over-stimulation like a flooded engine and it just needs time before it can be stimulated back to life.

Sleep. Come, sleep. Come dreams. Leave these night thoughts. A car. A lonely car. Nearly 5. Tick tock. Tick tock.

I won’t bore you with the details

I have been in bed for nearly 12 hours. I got up this morning with what some people might refer to as a ‘bad’ headache. Anyway, it was very painful, borderline migraine in terms of pain levels. So took some co-codamol which eased it greatly. But, alas, I fell asleep. I dreamed I was on a trip with university staying at a hotel near where I grew up. I won’t bore you with the details but it was a coherent, vivid and often unpleasant dream. I woke up soaked in sweat. I was dressed as I hadn’t intended to fall asleep, just wait for my headache to pass.