A Cure for Insomnia

Image by: Exsodus@FreeDigitalPhotos.net

So tired. So wired. Need a Deep Sleep.

My husband is snoring. My bed is too hot and too hard. I steal my favorite pillow and slip to the basement.

I lay down in the guest futon, and bury myself in the fluffy comforter. Bliss. It's dark, cool, and quiet. The old futon, the one I've had since I was single and just moved to Edmonton envelops me in it's old familiar, squishy way, bowed in the middle to cradle me.

Deep Sleep, I tell myself. Deep. Sleep. 

I feel my face relax. My mask, the one of worry and consternation I wear so much these days falls away. It isn't until then I realize how tense I am. Feet are still buzzing from the day, but their burden is finished for the night. Aching shoulders unwind. I still feel the twinges, but remind myself to let them settle. I have worked my body hard, and it deserves rest. I deserve rest. I deserve Deep Sleep.  I shift, just a little uncomfortable for a moment, and something in my spine pops like a tiny, satisfying firework only I can hear, and I sigh.

I am now in carefully cultivated, floating relaxation.

Thoughts of work drift through my mind. Tomorrow's prep cooking. Coleslaw, mashed potatos...We will have to make Beef and Mushroom Pot Pie, an all day affair. But I let it all slip away. I'm not at work. I'm sleeping. It will be okay. We will get through the day fine. I am able to dismiss my anxieties, let them fade.

My stories dance, and I let them. They will be fuller and richer when I wake. I have learned to trust my vivid, dreaming brain.

Deep Sleep, I gently chide myself. I'm wearing the mask again, and as odd as it sounds, I concentrate on letting go again. One does not notice how much one crinkles her face until she must work to ease it away.

Spartacus Jones comes to press his nose to my head and purr. My mouth drops open, but I don't care. I have successfully dropped the mask, and my comfort is complete.

I'm laying perfectly still, thinking of my father, and the best advice he ever gave me. Just be quiet. Don't get up for a cigarette. Don't get up to watch TV, or clean the house because you can't sleep. Your body needs to be quiet. Even if your mind can't stop, your body has to, and you'll feel better in the morning if you didn't leave your bed. 

Eventually I learned to let go, to be at peace with the silence. To suggest to myself the Deep Sleep. To believe myself . To believe in the Deep Sleep.

Deep Sleep. Deep Sleep. Deep Sleep. Say it to yourself until it comes true. Best of luck.

Don't Follow the Tomato! (Tired rantings written a few days ago)

Sooooo close. El Toro from Looney Tunes

So the bull jumped from a third story window to the street. He gave me this look...like he had no idea how he got there....But I understood completely. Just like I understand why the vegetables visit at night.

This is how my brain tells me I'm falling asleep.

I'm on the very cusp of slumber. But this time I got up instead, because I started giggling and suddenly I had to pee. And I couldn't help but share this with you because the confusion on the bull's face was priceless.

Surely I'm not the only one 'blessed' with cartoon characters for Sandmen? Why are my escorts to dreamland animated versions of various produce or in this case, livestock? (I saw marshmallow puppies last week.)

As a life-long insomniac, I've learned interesting things about my sleep patterns over the years. I sleep better in the city, rather than smaller towns or farmhouses. I sleep better with some lights on and a little bit of noise. I need to be REALLY warm...Two blankets in the summer kind of warm. If I fall asleep with the television on, and my husband shuts it off, I will wake up immediately.

I've recently recognized how my thoughts turn to cartoons or become extremely abstract as I drift off. Does anyone else get wacky crap like that? Or am I just weird?

I'm too tired to write anymore but I'd really like some opinions. All I know for sure is that the tomato with the gangster accent (Pssst. Hey, writah. Yeah you. C'meeeeere!) is a bad influence on me, and I shouldn't listen to him when he tries to coax me through that blue door. He usually ditches me on the highway.

Insomniac and the City

I'm late again. Whoops. And I don't have a very good excuse. Just like I didn't have a blog prepared. You'd think with all the hours I spent tossing and turning and grumbling in the dark this week I would have had time to come up with something. So here it is.

Insomnia sucks.

How did debspoons@FreeDigitalPhotos.net get in my room to draw Freya and me?

No shit, right? True, it's common for writers to have sleep issues. Our characters won't stop shouting to be written and the plot bunnies run races in our heads. But this is ridiculous! I have slowly turned vampire--Apparently I only sleep when the sun comes up.

This is the reason I need to live in the city, folks. It revolves around my nocturnal needs. Run out of smokes, need a snack, something to read? 7-11 is two blocks away through a nice quiet neighborhood free of wolves and bears. Want fast food? MacDonald's and Wendy's can oblige you. Let's not forget those hearty Denny's breakfasts. For live entertainment, show up just after the bars close. Oh yeah...there's bars to hang out in. And coffee shops. (Tim Horton's anyone?) You can catch up on your laundry if you've got quarters.

I should go get one right now.

And only a few years ago, someone invented a reason to never need to go out in daylight. Twenty-four hour Walmarts! One huge store full of all the things and it's open 24-7. Bliss. Yes, I know Walmart sucks. But this is the city where competition between stores thrives. How long until we have 24 hour Targets and Costcos?

Heeeeey! You know what we need now? All-night libraries and bookstores! What do you think? Is that a good idea? Or is that just 3 hours of sleep talking?