DREAM

Eyes are moving rapidly, breathing is shallow. Heart rate and blood pressure increase, arms and leg muscles are paralyzed.

 
Someone is dreaming!

Martin Luther King had a dream.

 
Aerosmith continues to dream. On.

I used to have a dream, too.

 
Lots of them. Most every night.

 
But since our most active dreaming takes place during that hallowed REM part of the deep sleep cycle, I am forced, these days, to daydream about dreaming.

Fall asleep? Not a problem.

Slip from Sleep Stages 1-4?  Piece of cake.

REM is next. On the horizon. In. My. Grasp.

I can see Lake Como: Clooney and pals on a boat. Wait. Is that Gosling or Pitt?

The wind rattles a window pane. A child sneezes down the hall. Dog stands, shakes, rattles and rolls. Husband-who falls asleep in 2.6 seconds and basks in REM till morning- shifts left, introducing his elbow to my chin.

 
I am awake. The bedroom is filled with darkness, silence and my busy brain.

    
I have processed that I am awake. I am doomed.  

Transferring from Deep Sleep Cycle to Insomnia at warp speed.

“Don’t start thinking!” I tell me.

But I am already thinking that I should not be thinking.

“Don’t worry!” I beg me.

But thinking = worry when the bedroom is filled with darkness, silence and my busy brain.

Did I set the alarm?

 
Is there bread for lunches?

Did I iron the boys’ shirts?

Is the water bill paid?

Are any bills paid?

Winds must be 40 mph. The roof is going to blow off.

Can I function beyond baby babble tomorrow without any sleep?

 
Winds must be 60 mph! Sycamore tree is going to fall on my children.

Did I lock the doors? 

Ouch. Sharp knee pain. Did I recently read about nighttime pain in the knee? Or was it the leg?

 
Transferring from Insomnia to Hypochondria at warp speed.

Pain is shooting from knee to leg. Pretty sure I read that means aneurysm.

 
Would convicts troll our part of town in this lousy weather, checking houses for unlocked doors?

Jaw aches. Email I once mass-forwarded said go to the hospital if jaw aches. Should I call 911? Wake Husband? Drive myself? 

How many cars might I hit if I drive myself?

“Stop!” I scold me. “You’re out of control. Jaw hurts from grinding your teeth. Worry about that mole the doctor told you to get sliced off a year ago.”

Shoot. I forgot about the mole. Come to think of it, there’s one growing on my head, too.

 
Does hair color have chemicals that turn good moles bad?

What color is my hair, anyway?

“Get yourself back to Lake Como, or get up and go work,” I reason with me.

 
But Bed is too warm. Silence is humming with the sounds of sleep. REM is waiting.

  
Queen Insomdriac. 

Queen Hyposomniac.

Call me whichever you choose.

I shall bear the title proudly. Exhaustedly.

 
I have earned it.

If only I could dream it.   

QUING Hereby Decrees: Dream a little dream for me!