Insomniac Kid
A few weeks ago, whilst perusing the back-issues of POSTCARDS and reading about the insomnia that she suffer{s/ed} from, then reading Fight Club, I was reminded of a "stage" I went through in my childhood. I'm not sure how long this stage lasted for, it was a fair few years though I think.
As a small child, I was always afraid of my bedroom in the darkness. In the darkness, evil things could see me, watching, waiting for me to make a wrong move. I had to hide, deep down under the covers. Of course, it got hot down there. The heat made it impossible to sleep. Eventually I would build up the courage to go down stairs to my parents in the lounge. I had to time it just right so that I had the element of surprise over the Evil in my room. I'd jump out of bed and dash across the room to my door and open to escape into the almost safety of the well-lit landing.
Downstairs, my parents would let me sit for a while with them, watching TV. I'd say I was too hot, or in the winter maybe I'd actually be too cold, or simply that I couldn't sleep. I'd never say I was too scared, as that was never the reason; the battles I'd have each night with the darkness were nothing to do with my battle to get to sleep. Often, it was my dad who would take me back up to bed again (my mom always "tucked me in" first of all, when I first went to bed).
He'd run through some relaxing exercises with me, starting at the top and making every part of my body Tight, then Floppy until my toes were floppy and relaxed. Then, perhaps, I'd get to sleep, but sometimes I'd go downstairs 2 or even 3 times a night, until even my parents were in bed and I had nowhere else to go.
When a little older, say 9 of so, I'd lie in bed for what seemed like hours before sleep found me. My bed had become a place to day-dream, not sleep-dream, so I'd have adventures traveling the world, construct houses, castles, whole cities even and cars in my mind. My imagination would run wild, not willing to surrender night-time to sleep and dreams.
Now sleep comes easier to me, occasionally even instantly. But perhaps that just means I get tireder easier these days?
As a small child, I was always afraid of my bedroom in the darkness. In the darkness, evil things could see me, watching, waiting for me to make a wrong move. I had to hide, deep down under the covers. Of course, it got hot down there. The heat made it impossible to sleep. Eventually I would build up the courage to go down stairs to my parents in the lounge. I had to time it just right so that I had the element of surprise over the Evil in my room. I'd jump out of bed and dash across the room to my door and open to escape into the almost safety of the well-lit landing.
Downstairs, my parents would let me sit for a while with them, watching TV. I'd say I was too hot, or in the winter maybe I'd actually be too cold, or simply that I couldn't sleep. I'd never say I was too scared, as that was never the reason; the battles I'd have each night with the darkness were nothing to do with my battle to get to sleep. Often, it was my dad who would take me back up to bed again (my mom always "tucked me in" first of all, when I first went to bed).
He'd run through some relaxing exercises with me, starting at the top and making every part of my body Tight, then Floppy until my toes were floppy and relaxed. Then, perhaps, I'd get to sleep, but sometimes I'd go downstairs 2 or even 3 times a night, until even my parents were in bed and I had nowhere else to go.
When a little older, say 9 of so, I'd lie in bed for what seemed like hours before sleep found me. My bed had become a place to day-dream, not sleep-dream, so I'd have adventures traveling the world, construct houses, castles, whole cities even and cars in my mind. My imagination would run wild, not willing to surrender night-time to sleep and dreams.
Now sleep comes easier to me, occasionally even instantly. But perhaps that just means I get tireder easier these days?
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