Is there anyone who remembers how nicely they slept? Please thank the heavens!
Sleep, those little slices of death — how I loathe them. Problem is, half of me hates sleep so much that when I once slept so well recently, I had a dream I was awake and I woke up to find myself asleep. I think insomnia is a sign that a person is interesting.
Even so, I’m not insomniac. I may pretend I am but most times what I have is actually always a good book and total disrespect for tomorrow. You know it’s always a rare book that wins the battle against drooping eyelids. No book worth its salt is meant to put you to sleep, it’s meant to make you jump out of your bed in your underwear and run and beat the author’s brains out. However, even when there’s no book, my brain becomes the book, with past memories being a thriller. A recent scene in my life goes like:
Brain: Let’s go to bed!
Me: Lol, nope, let’s stay awake and remember all the stupid decisions you’ve made in my life.
Those memories are the ones you so sloppily drink as posts in this blog. You parasite! And that’s how I anxiously anticipate my mornings so that i can perform my daily ritualistic jog with so reddened eyes. So red in fact I see noises on the streets! In lecture halls, my excuse has always been that ‘I don’t have to sleep well, I just have to sleep better than you’.
But apart from whiling some of the nights away sharpening my math skills by calculating how much sleep I’d get if i “fall asleep right now”, the thought that demons, in the name of dreams, are haunting the rest of you in bed is enough to scare me wide awake! I guess I should be scared. How do people get to fall asleep? I’m afraid I’ve lost the knack.
The creak of bed springs suffering under the weight of a restless man is as lonely a sound as I know. I once went to a pal’s for those sleepover dude-only moments. Not the girly ones, the ones you spend on FIFA , coffee, chess, and since we swore never to drink, we talk batshit then suddenly I’m talking to myself. Everyone just dies! As usual, sleep does not honor me with its presence.Then I realized that I always want to sleep but actually it’s my brain that can’t stop talking to itself. Hey, you people who fall asleep so suddenly, you do scare the freak of me. “Don’t you have thoughts!?” Complaining here yet, I’ve always envied people who sleep easily. Their brains must be cleaner, the floorboards of the skull well swept, all the little monsters closed up in a steamer trunk at the foot of the bed. My monsters are always under that bed.
I hate admitting I’m sleepless. No! I’m just too wakeful. That, or, 3 am cherishes meeting me on the seat rather than in bed. That, or my brain feels so important, as though if it were to blink, then doze, the world might be overrun by some encroaching calamity, which its obsessive musings are somehow fending off. The night is becoming the hardest time to be alive since I actually struggle to snooze, yet i don’t doze, and 4am knows all my secrets.
I know! A doc has always told me that it is a special kind of homelessness to be evicted from your dreams. Anyhow, I’ve always wondered how death is that ghoul which makes men weep, yet a third of life is passed in sleep. Sleep: to see and do; and do nothing? Huh?
Ain’t such nights useful anyway? Those when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful? In the absence of sleep, your restless nights are being fueled by your, of course, overactive imagination, weaving waking dreams onto the canvas of conception.You actually get to live. When you are happy, the world laughs with you, but when you snore, man, you sleep alone. Don’t sleep! It’s a trick by the aliens! Hahaha, furthermore, life is something that happens when you can’t get to sleep. So live! 😀