Sunday, February 15, 2009

The Insomniac Journals, 090215

The Insomnia Journals, 090215

Sleep is unexpected and delicious, limbs melting into the mattress,
melting into dreams, into the river of darkness and light. I went to
bed around 11:15, maybe, held my sleeping husband in my arms, then put
on my CPAP and happily drifted away.

About 12:15 or so, I awoke to knocking. PB at the door, apparently
without a key. I untangled myself from BB's arms and legs, from the
blankets, ran galumphing down the stairs in my nightie, but PB was
gone when I opened the door--I called and he came around from out
front and in, apologetic for forgetting his keys.

Upstairs in bed again, I am all clumsy arms and legs. The blankets
are tangled. BB wraps himself around me but feels awkward and heavy.
He's snoring raggedly in my ear. I can't get my breath. I'm hot.
The CPAP is sweaty and sticky on my face. I'm suddenly stiff and sore
again from my fall skiing earlier today. For an hour, I thrash about.
I think of things I could be doing instead of lying there doing
nothing. I get bored and restless, but I am tired. I'd rather sleep
than get up, but eventually, I can't take the restless boredom and get
up again.

The house is silent and dark. BB and PB are sleeping. And I am wide awake.

I want to eat. I consider doing negative space art. I cnsider the
books I brought back from art class that I need to view, copy and
return. I consider my poem. But the thing about being up in the
middle of the night is that I've already been up all day and I am
tired. I'd rather be sleeping.

I make this art piece on my tablet--I got the tablet for Christmas and
I think this is only the 4th or 5th picture I've made on it. Of
course, I'm not as pretty or as young as this.

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