Turning over with my pillow once again, my mind is hovering on the edge of the conscious and the sub. I try to force the recent dream to commence playing where it had paused for me to find my comfy hollow on the bed again but it seems to be slipping, I cannot grasp it. The more I try to hold on to that sweet dreamy world, the more reality is finding its hard way into the taste in my mouth.
Its way past midnight and my eyes are wide open. Awoke for some reason or other and cannot ease my mind into wandering off again. All kinds of ghosts and spooks seem to attack one at this hour, when they know they have you alone. They instil a panic which ensures sleeplessness for at least half the night while panic’s friend; anxiety, hovers in the wings to deliver that cold sweat on the brow and restless limbs tangling with the covers.
It's the darkest hour
Of the darkest night
It's a million miles
To the morning light
Can't get no sleep
Don't know what to do
I've got those midnight blues*
They say that insomnia was (is?) one of the favourite torture techniques used by intelligence adversaries who to this day, claim a success rate like no other – and I believe them. Ever since I stopped feeding the tobacco smoking addiction, it seems my mind has found new life with an extra burst of oxygen pumping fresh energy through me while all I really need to do is sleep.
Usually I know when to expect a little sleep disturbance – likely on a Sunday evening, when the weekend was a touch too good and Monday seems like a world away. Sometimes there are major events planned for the next day that bring nervousness or over-blown doubts, just as I close my eyes to visualise the deep dream sleep - but nothing can measure up to this spell of death hour attentiveness.
I have woken up at 2 am before (a long time ago), which I do remember – maybe because I distinctly remember listening to Mick Jagger climbing the notes of “Angie”, and the deep eerie feeling it left inside me because of that hour.
I also remember waking at around 3 am to hear the pair of owls calling each other in the yard, and waking my love to witness the ever so peaceful “hoo – hoo” with me.
Once I woke at some ungodly hour to peer out the hotel window and see the full moon reflecting off the sea in a perfect wind-still night, sending a peace through me like I hadn’t felt before – and it staying with me for a very long time after that.
I can’t get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications
Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be all right
Perhaps it’s just imagination
Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away**
Nothing prepared me for this bitch though.
She wakes me at 1 am, 2.30 am and at 3.15 am I cannot resist her and lie awake until my alarm says it is quarter to five, and time to start the day (after a full nightshift).
It is exactly like Thai Ngoc*** said:” I feel like a plant without water” – wilting, lifeless, shrivelled, hanging like a sucked dry bokkom**** on a piece of string from the roof.
A bitch she is – insomnia…
* Gary Moore – Midnight Blues
** Men at Work – Overkill
*** Thai Ngoc – Vietnamese claiming to be awake for 41 years
**** Bokkom - dried (very, very, very smelly) fish from Zeffington's valley.