Dangerous Compassions

night life

I go to bed and wake up thinking it’s morning–all those dreams, the hard work of sleep.  So glad I survived it, so glad it’s a new day. 

Then I look at my phone and see what time it is, realizing that only two hours have passed.

You gotta be kidding me–I just worked like crazy to get through this night, and you’re telling me I didn’t get through this night?  ARrrrrrg!

I was telling Ming how all the time, all day, I’m getting little glimpses of half-remembered dream-bits and slivers of dream feelings.  It’s disorienting, and I would like them to go away.  The unbidden dream stuff that nudges into my consciousness–all day.

Does this happen to everyone? I asked Ming.  I don’t hear people talk about it.

No, he said.

But it happens to you!  Why does it happen to you? I asked. Narcolepsy, right?  But I don’t have narcolepsy!  Did you give me narcolepsy?

I used to sleep all night like a decent human being.  Then I had my first manic episode.  I was put on a sedating bipolar cocktail.

These days, for the past four months or so, I get up every night in the middle of the night for two or three hours and write.  I like the quiet.  It’s good.  I get a lot done.  But honestly, I envy people who can sleep well.

I remember when I was in the hospital, up writing in the middle of the night.  It was a great comfort, though I should have been getting what sleep I could.  A passing nurse gave me a look like, Okay–whatever, weird patient.

Ming with his narcolepsy has a night life.  He likes to watch movies in the night.  He does his things I don’t really know about–call his mom late, read, clean, load and unload the dishwasher, whatever Ming does. 

Now I have a night life also.  It’s ok, but I hope one day I can be a good sleeper again.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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