Given our allotted time on this orb it seems unfair that we must spend about one-third of it on our pillows, oblivious to all the adventures that waking life holds. That works out to between twenty-five and thirty years, for us late octogenarians, considering my infantile period, day-dreaming and the occasional afternoon nap. However unaccountable sleeping may be, it certainly isn’t wasted. In fact, we can’t do without it and it is more to be cherished as we go into our dotage.
I’m now at the point where a good night’s sleep is more than a gift; it’s an inalienable right just behind the Pursuit of Happiness. No, pursuit won’t do; I want the attainment. Pursuit feels like the definition of, insomnia.
How I get to sleep is of little importance. I deserve it. After all, I almost fell asleep writing this page, then at 4 P.M. with a book on my chest and again on the couch watching a movie when the room went dark. Now here I am at midnight fidgeting around trying to empty my ever-diminished brain. I start thinking about virulent mutant strains ... but enough about Trump. The prospect of an apocalypse or even a toilet paper war is not a prescription for somnolence.
Instead, I go to images of babbling brooks, or silent stretches of green fields and swaying trees. The next thing I know I’m naming body parts with three-letter words, eye, ear, lip, jaw, etc... I’m up to twelve from top to bottom. Don’t ever try this. Every new word charges the synapses congratulating myself with applause and I want to get up and take a bow.
I’m told there are some among us who fall asleep as their head hits the pillow. What a talent! I’d gladly trade my skill-set for this except I don’t have anything much to barter. I can’t ski, surf, sky dive or sing. Maybe I could have learned to carry a tune if I had just not slept for so many years. I’ve also never sailed a boat, submerged into a shark tank or slam-dunked. The list of non-achievements is enough to keep me up another hour.
Butterflies, bull frogs and baby dolphins never sleep and giraffes get away with a half hour nap now and then. Even if they wanted to, where would they put their necks? The more I think about it the less complaint I have.
Now I’m growing increasingly bored by all this and my lids are getting heavy………….zzzzzzzzzzzzz.