A Tip For When You Can’t Sleep
You ever have trouble sleeping?
It’s obvious I do, so here’s a little ditty about a route I took to try to fix it.
I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again. When it comes to going to bed, I’m like a toddler hopped up on Capri Suns, waiting to watch Frozen for the fifth time that night. I fight sleep all night, just rolling around my bed, not actually doing anything of value.
I suffer from FOMO…Fear Of Missing Out. What, I think I’m going to miss out on, while in Afghanistan, I’m not sure. I think maybe I’m scared if I don’t scroll Facebook enough, I’ll miss out on the newest meme of Leo prancing on a field of grass (WITH HIS MOTHERLUVING OSCAR THIS TIME THOUGH!).
I try to give myself a bedtime, I wind down at night by washing my face, I’s rubs the lotion on its’ skin, and try to read, but eventually log in on the computer again, sure I’m going to miss a message from a certain someone, but it never comes and then it’s three hours past the time I’m supposed to be asleep and I have to be up in five hours.
The other night, I stayed up late again, and eventually fell asleep watching one of my YouTube videos of some chick with red hair talking nonsense into the camera.
I then drifted into a dream state, where, of all things to dream about, I dreamed about leaving a comment on a YouTube channel about…..Lululemon leggings….WTF brain…I don’t even own any of those yoga pants because 1) A pair costs about 3 hours of my working life and 2) the brand suggested fat bottomed girls maybe better not buy them because apparently women were complaining when they bent over in them, they turned shear and you could see…things…so here I was in this dream, writing a raving review about how awesome they made my bum look.
Then, I think my brain was like, shut up, you’ve never even worn them…WAKE THE SHIT UP…
So I did wake up. It was 1am.
Then, I decided I was hungry. Somehow, in my groggy state, I was still polite enough to worry my roommates might hear me crinkling snacky food things (our walls are made of plywood), so I did the only thing I could think of.
I grabbed a single minnie Slim Jim and ONE Hershey Kiss, and took them to the bathroom. With my eyes closed, sitting on a toilet in the bathroom, I ate my two delicious items. Meh, at least it wasn’t bread, I thought to myself.
Then, I went back to bed…I mean, I put my body on my mattress, but there was no sleeping. As usual, my Brain was having none of that.
Brain: “Our throat hurts…that chocolate kiss thing was weird looking, it was all white and filmy on the outside of it, like, not covered in white chocolate, but just…a regular Hershey Kiss, but it looked like Powder himself blew that kiss…You remember Powder right, that movie with a bald guy in it who did some magical shit, but nothing actually really happened in the movie…I think there was a lightening scene…did he get electrocuted?”
Me: “The chocolate was fine, it was just probably slightly old.”
Brain: “Nah, seriously though, our throat hurts…what if the white stuff was mold, your mom’s allergic to mold, maybe we’re allergic to mold too, but just don’t know it, and you just went and done ate moldy chocolate you turd fart…it really burns. I’m going to tell everyone you ate a Slim Jim on the toilet and moldy chocolate. Look what you’ve resorted to in order to have story material. Is this what Hemingway meant when he said, ‘There’s nothing to writing, all you do is sit at your typewriter and bleed,’ except now we’re bleeding internally.
Me: “Hemingway never said that, Red Smith said that shit, you pompous ass, I’m going to shut you up now.”
I got out of bed and grabbed a pen and notebook. It was so dark, I couldn’t see what I was writing, just the glowing yellow paper showing me that I was actually writing in the vicinity of the paper. I wanted to remember the conversation so I could get to the bottom of the weird looking chocolate.
I then fell back into sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
The next day, I read my note and immediately had no idea why I’d written the things I did. So much for that idea, but hey, at least writing the brain shenanigans down, I was able to go back to sleep. So, there it is folks, if you can’t sleep, jot some words down, freeing up some space to allow the silence in.
Note: In telling this story to a friend, who happens to work at an ice cream factory, I found out when chocolate sits for a long time, the milk in it evaporates and seeps to the surface of the candy…Thanks Wilson!