Sleeping Pill Swallow

Unisom is the flavor of the month.

I downed the capsule five minutes ago, which means I should be snoozing in a half hour or so. If I'm lucky.

It's almost 7 a.m. here. Most everyone's waking up now in my city. I haven't slept. I don't sleep. I stay up all night, then I take a sleeping pill, then I hope sleep comes to me. Yes, this is typical.

I've been insomniac for years – since the Clinton presidency, in fact. The sleeping pills are a new thing; not quite the last resort, but still a drastic measure for me. And they don't always work unless I take two of them.

But then I tend to sleep way too long. 

When I wake up, I'm back in the cycle again. 

At midnight, I'm at the gym, pretending to lift weights, flexing for the mirror, running on a treadmill. I get home at 1 or 2 a.m., and I'm still wired. I write, I read, I try to relax, and next thing I know, it's dawn. Sunbeams lined across my floor.

No. I don't do cocaine or meth. Never have, never will.

I used to call this an occupational hazard. Busy nights and rushing deadlines. My neurons and synapses all bursting and firing and crackling past midnight so I can finish my work. But I get home and can't find the switch to wind myself down. 

The grocery stores stay open all night. Sometimes, I wander around in them at pre-dawn like a little boy lost, buying this and that, because I might as well get something done if I'm not going to sleep. I hope I don't look as gone as the rest of the ghouls roaming Wal-Mart’s nocturnal aisles. 

Mostly I write. If I've got nobody to write to and nothing important to work on, then I call it a blog entry. 

It's been a good 20 minutes. The Unisom's taking its sweet time. I finished a box of Sleepinol capsules last week; little light-blue pills that looked like Smurf eggs. They worked better. I ought to shoot an e-mail to Consumer Reports; maybe they can use a freelance article reviewing the effectiveness of over-the-counter sleep aids?

If I get to sleep before 8 a.m., then I'll wake up around 3 in the afternoon. That's plenty of ZZZZZ for me. It's sure as hell enough to keep me up all night again. 

I'm slightly dizzy now. 

Can I close my eyes now and listen to the soothing whoosh of my central air, the sound of soft morning rain painting the streets outside a nice shiny grey? I used to imagine myself in a meadow, under a tree, just a boy surrounded by little white puppies, so playful. That doesn't work anymore.

I haven't had a dream in ages. Not any that I can remember. I might be disappointed if I could. Maybe all my dreams are of boring things, like instructions for assembling refrigerators, or road maps of Nebraska. There's got to be some reason why my mind doesn't bother to save my dreams.

I better stop now. I fear I'm doing a better job of putting you to sleep, than myself. 

Until next time.