At this point, it’s getting close to midnight, and so I close the blinds, turn off the lights, and lay in bed staring at the ceiling. My body starts to feel heavy, my eyelids flutter shut, and every so often, a muscle twitches as if using up that last bit of energy before shutting down. I become aware of the quiet and feel the stillness of the air. No longer in bed, my body begins to sink into warm sand, and my mind floats above watching my body disappear. I feel the relief of sleep begin to wash over me, lulled into a false sense of security that is torn away in one fell swoop; my body and mind collide together, and I’m jolted awake. I open my eyes to see the faint outline of the door in the soft light coming through the crack in between the curtains. I stare at that one spot, lost deep in thought, my body frozen until my eyes unfocus and sting. I rub them until wild patterns dance across my eyelids and think to myself that I need to get to sleep. Before I know it, I found a new spot, the corner of my dresser. Sensations begin to go numb, except for the growing sting in my eyes. The thoughts take over again, one leading into the next and the next and the next, only to be punctuated with the thought of sleep.
After an hour or two, I snap myself out of my running thoughts, close my eyes, and feel my body slip into sleep. Again, I'm met with the same jolt. I open my eyes, take a shaky breath, and clench my jaw until my teeth are about to crack. This time the room is a little lighter, so I can make out the pushpins tacking photos to the wall. The glare on the plastic softens and turns into spots, each one a little street lamp marking the photos. Photos… photos… that reminds me… I snap myself out of the trance, write something down, and walk back to bed.
Each time I jolt out of a half-sleep, the room gets brighter; I can make out the gummy texture of built-up paint on the walls, where the first golden beam of light falls, and how the light changes the color of each corner in the room.