Sleep. It’s a wonderful thing if you can find it. It’s that mind-numbing place I find when my head nestles into my pillow and the bed becomes an extension of my body. I usually enjoy it for a full five minutes until something wakes me up.
When I was younger, I taught myself relaxation methods that are very similar to self-hypnosis. I started counting backward from twenty-one, allowing my body to relax a little more with each breath until I was boneless and floating. Now, all I have to do is simply think the number “twenty-one” and I’m instantly asleep, so much so that I stay away from blackjack tables for fear the mere mention of the number will start me snoring.
The only problem with my little self-relaxation method is that it only works the first time. After my blessed five minutes of power-napping, I’m up for a while. I usually lie there for a while, deluding myself that this time I’ll fall back asleep, until I just can’t stand it any longer. I mean, come on. There’s cereal in the kitchen, Facebook on my computer, the last half hour of my favorite paranormal show on the DVR.
My other reason for losing sleep is the paranormal. Ghosts simply love my bedroom. I haven’t figured out why, but it doesn’t take them long to discover me. As soon as I find that sweet spot on my pillow, my bedroom becomes Ghostland Central. They swirl around my bed, hover inches from my face, making my ears ring with the sound of their presence. Soon, I’ll feel something sit down beside me on the bed. Another will gently caress my hair, and then the angry one will lean over me with murder in his ghostly heart. If I’m lucky enough, I will evade them by falling asleep. If not, then it will be another long night, pretending that noise in the corner is my cat playing with a piece of paper or the rap on the wall is just the wind.
As for my number one fantasy…it’s not sleep, but that’s another blog entry altogether.