To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

I’m an insomniac from way back.

Oh as a kid I was a dream- took myself off to bed before the rest of the family had even finished dinner, on more than one occasion.

But only because I knew I’d be awake in the night long after everyone else had headed for the land of nod, or up before the sun.

It’s a condition that’s plagued me into adulthood, and is especially bad during periods of high stress (which pretty much sums up my life at times).

And there are reasons that sleep deprivation is used as a form of torture. Just ask any parent of a newborn. Or a long-term insomniac.

It’s also a booming industry…just ask your friendly pharmacist.

I’ve tried counting sheep (but must be allergic to wool or something), I’ve tried whole-body relaxation techniques (by the time I reach my head, my feet are wide awake again), I’ve tried every kind of ‘natural’ and medicated sleep aids (most with the unnatural reaction of making me more alert), attempted to master the ‘Mindfulness’ thing (but keep getting distracted by the very thoughts meant to relax me), I’ve also tried reading to make myself nod off. Non-fiction books are best.

My Beloved couldn’t believe it the night he woke to find me sitting up alongside him thoroughly ensconced in the pages of ‘Hamlet’. “No one reads that by choice” says he, “I haven’t picked it up since high school, and even then I’m sure I didn’t finish it!“ I, on the other hand, have now discovered that I had a fairly decent grasp of the plot after all, according to the notes scribbled down the margins of my copy from senior school (see Mrs V, I was paying attention!); I have also found that the Bard is almost unequalled in his ability to lull one into slumber by his scribing.

So I have managed to finish the sad story of the prince of Denmark, along with the tragic tale of the Montagues and Capulets, the nocturnal musings of Midsummer, and even got something out of “Much Ado About Nothing” before I begin to doze.

But even then there’s a big gap between getting to sleep and staying asleep.

On the nights where I do manage to get a solid stretch of shut-eye, odds are it’ll be broken by either a family emergency with one of the children allegedly finding crocodiles in their bed, or dreaming they’ve trotted into the bathroom while are in reality still soundly between the sheets (you know the joy I’m talking about)… or the dog decides it’s his night to play alpha male of the neighbourhood. Like last night.

Yes I was rudely awakened from a most scintillating subconscious state where I was the first (and may I say hilarious) female presenter on 'Top Gear' (What the? Must be all that car research I'm doing!) when the silly little critter joined in the canine chorus of the wee small hours, strutting all along the fence line with his pathetic little bark.

I am ashamed to say that where my previous dog- a rather large Labrador- could shake the surrounding streets with his booming “WOOF!” echoing throughout the night air, this fluffy little mutt we rescued from the RSCPA can’t even manage to startle the possums perched on the porch.

After an hour and a half of “ruff, ruffruffruff, ruffruff, ruff”, I had to go shut him up for his own sake- it was such an embarrassing display, I certainly didn’t want anyone knowing that dog belonged to us (even though it seemed to disturb no one else but me).

But then another hour later, after he had finally slipped into doggy dreams himself, I was still wide awake and prowling the bookcases for something to help switch my mind off again.

“’The History of the English Language’ looks good”, I thought, as I propped up the pillows behind me and settled in to read.

A mere twenty pages into the story of how first the Celts, then the Romans, and then the Normans claimed Britain and changed the local lingo I felt my chin hit my chest and took the cue to kill the lights.

Before I knew it, the kids were bouncing into the room for their Morning Hug, and I was shuffling out to the kitchen to greet the coffee maker with a similar level of enthusiasm.

Hopefully I’ll manage to inject enough caffeine into my system to get me through the hours until I can chase the kids to bed and start the game of cat-and-mouse with Mr Sandman once more.

I better keep a copy of “the Scottish play” beside the bed just in case…

Jx
©2009