I was supposed to go to a retirement dinner tonight, but I haven't slept much for oh, about five nights now, thought I would write an entry about sleep and not getting any and then I seemed to remember from some buried place that I did that once, I just never posted it. So I'm posting it, making it an entry within an entry:
The Intoxication of Sleep
Few things intrigue and fascinate me more than sleep. I love to sleep, and I like to imagine that I would sleep all the time, if I could. It's the "if I could" part that I can't get a handle on. It probably means that I have things to do in the real world - miles to go? - that no one can sleep all the time. But for me, it also means that I often can't sleep even when normal people sleep, like when they go to bed at night, or close their eyes for a nap.
I think it's this elusive quality that puts that extra little magical spin on the whole sleep thing for me. It's as if there's this really cool other plane of existence somewhere, and most people (it seems to me) can get there the same way Dorothy got home from Oz: they just have to really want to go there, and there they are. They close their eyes in a dark room and they've gone to that place where they can fly, and breathe underwater, and play golf with Einstein and Eminem at the same time. And then there I am, waiting sometimes for hours to get my ticket punched just to get on the train that takes us there. Often, when I wake up in the morning or from a nap, I'm not sure if I've even really been asleep at all. And then I think, "Oh wait, I was talking to Eleanor Roosevelt a couple of minutes ago. So I was probably asleep." It's that dream thing, that sense of having been someplace else, really.
I saw someone in the library once, a teacher using the computer during his planning period, fall asleep with one hand on the mouse and the other propping up his chin. He was sitting up, facing the screen. Asleep. Most nights, I'm lying there in the dark trying to get on board that train for an hour or more, and in comes Hubs, after having slept on the couch for an hour or two already with the TV on; he gets into the bed, puts his head down, and he's out.
When I was taking that sleeping pill for awhile, I guess it was from about April to October, I slept great every night, fell asleep right away and didn't wake up once until morning. But I never dreamed, or else I didn't remember any dreams. Although I felt more rested and alert most days, I also felt a sense of loss. I had lost my passport to that other place.
I often remember my dreams, sometimes for years. I used to dream all the time about a journey. It was always different, but there were always obstacles, like bridges that didn't go all the way across. I was always traveling with someone who couldn't go alone and I had to help them, like a small child or an old person. I haven't had one of these in a while.
Here's one of my best dreams ever, the short version: In it I was about 15, and my grandparents came to visit us by bus, the way they did then, and when they came in I hugged Grandpa Sam like I would never let him go and I said "They told me you were dead" and he said "But you can see it's not true." And then I woke up, and I could still feel him hugging me.
So this sleep thing. Definitely a trip worth taking.
We're driving down to DC on Saturday to pick up K's stuff from the dorm -- she'll come in by train after her last final next Wednesday -- so I hope I sleep some tonight or tomorrow, so Hubs doesn't have to do all the driving. Enough!
I felt so guilty last night when Ruben was one of the bottom two on Idol, I just can't tell you. I should've called. I should've. I'm on my way from posting to check out the site of the Lecherous Broads for Clay Aiken. I'll admit that he's a sweetie -- K says she wants him for her gay husband, for what that's worth -- but I'm truly a fan of big Ruben.
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I'm watching The Daily Show
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Sweet Sorrow - 06.12.2007
So ... - 12.19.2006
Christmastime Is Near - 12.18.2006
Fifteen Years - 12.17.2006
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