Sandy Supposes....

Sleep? What's That?

PROMPT: Talk Tuesday! What do you do when you can't sleep?

          Simple... I don't sleep. It's not always my idea. Rarely, do I choose to burn the midnight oil, other factors take charge. My brain is a bully. As long as there are plans, ideas, questions, worries, memories, and more to mull, my brain is not shutting down, and permitting shut-eye. My legs are often forced to pad into the livingroom, and they let me know their displeasure with every grumbling step. The brain has sent them on an errand that necessitated they abandon the bed. My hands are then instructed to rummage around in the darkness for a writing tool, pen, pencil, whatever, and a notebook. All of this is toted back to the bedroom, and my eyes are temporarily blinded by the re-emergence of a bright light. Brain has something monumental that must be recorded to paper, immediately. My poor hands valiantly try to keep up with the urgency, but handwriting has never been their strong suit. Snippets for a poem, or story appear. Sometimes, I recall a conversation, or a reaction. Often, I make observations. Once in a while, I construct a list of things to do, reminders really.

          Almost always, I postpone rising from bed. I know that I will do it eventually, but hope reigns eternal, and I want my brain to realize that not everything revolves around it. It can just wait 'til I'm ready to capitulate. What 's the rush? I toss and turn. I try comforter on, then comforter off. I stretch. I wiggle my toes. I yawn. I attempt deep breathing. It's all just an act, and I only prolong my sleeplessness.

         I've been known to reorganize closets and cupboards in the wee hours of the morning. I dunno, maybe double drudgery will induce sleep. If I'm wide awake, I might as well accomplish something useful. Insomnia is no excuse for procrastination. I suppose I cannot deal with mental clutter as easily as I can banish physical clutter.

          Thank goodness I'm not someone who turns to food when I cannot slumber. If this were commonplace, I'd actually be rolling out of bed.

          Reading is not a cure for sleeplessness. Oh, I cannot resist it, I succumb. Following a story only increases my restlessness. Once I begin a book, I want to finish it.

          There are times when I'll go for a stroll. Again, my brain is wired, and it insists my body partake of movement. Stumbling and dragging are good enough as long as brain is experiencing a new environment.

         Resistance to wakefulness is futile. Peeking at the clock and bemoaning the snail-paced passage of time is unproductive. I just ride out the insomnia. Sooner or later, even it must sleep, be it two, three, or four days later. What's that expression? There'll be time enough to sleep when I'm dead. Oh, I'll be more than ready by then...