Insomnia

Ah, she arrives, Insomnia. She is here again, knowing that I desire sleep but she has her own agenda and my yearning for the warm blanket of sleep means nothing to her. I lay in my bed, listening to the tranquil sounds of the sleeping breaths of others. The dog at my feet has her tiny little breathes, my love has his deeply satisfying, lung filling breathes. Through the slit in the window the trees are sighing their nightly rustle and in she glides. Insomnia has arrived and begins flitting around my mind. She tickles a thought here and touches a memory there. Winging here and there she taps ideas, musings, hopes, speculations, feelings, notions, and ideas. She likes the activity. She wants all of them to be awake together, running together, holding hands and skipping through my mind. She shakes her finger at Sleep, "Go away." she says.

I think that if I lay still and breathe deeply I can chase her away. I try to emulate my love's gentle breaths, in...and...out, in...and...out. Stealthily I paint a picture in my head of waves lapping a beach, of leaves rustling in their branches while I whisper to Sleep, "come back, come back". Insomnia catches me, winks at me and says, "No, I have been waiting all day to play!" Sleep slinks away. Coward.

We used to be mortal enemies. Once I cringed at her entrance, I fought her. Food, drink, TV, books, music were thrown at her. Wanting to crush her I even tried to drown her with alcohol. For such a tiny thing she was much more powerful. 2 AM came and I resented her. 4:30 AM would arrived and I wanted to smash her. Throughout the day I would resent her and vow that I would conquer her, somehow she was going to leave. I would throw her off the cliff of my mind. She is mighty. I learned to succumb. Now I humor her.

As my household drifts into the wondrous world of sleep I am left alone in the gray night, the lone wakeful one surrounded by slumber. The wind blows in my psyche and she arrives bringing her whirlwind. Thoughts are tossed about like a child going through a toy box. They scramble together. A memory from fourth grade meets an idea from yesterday. Remembrances of a long ago past dance with visions of today. Insomnia skips in and out, joining one with another. I store these joinings. There is now a notebook in my head and then after I finally sleep and wake again another day I take them and create. No longer my nemesis, she is now my muse.