Tomorrow is my birthday, my 38th, and I have one birthday wish from whomever grants such things. I want one good night’s sleep, preferably tonight. But seeing as that’s not likely, since I haven’t slept in nights and nights and am beginning to feel somewhat cracked in the head, I think . . . I think I just heard a large explosion outside!
My husband, Joel, recently discovered a 90s film, a love story about an insomniac, called–wait, you’re not going to believe this–Dream for an Insomniac. Joel insisted I watch it, insisted I would understand the heroine, due to her chronic insomnia, her propensity to over-think life and the world, and her job at an espresso shop. Sigh. So there it was on the screen before me–Ione Skye as Frankie the insomniac, reeling off the quotes she’d collected in her head to cope with the lack of quiet upstairs in her noggin–there she was putting on the gear de rigueur for someone who never sleeps, the light pajamas and eye mask (I’m not sure she wore earplugs, but they’re also a mandatory fashion accessory for the sleepless)–there she was tossing and turning through the night and rising early to work at the espresso shop in downtown San Francisco. Do I want to watch such things on screen?
The film is a love story, in case you must know. It’s nothing more than a light, romantic comedy with 90s hipster actors, all jazzing it up on the west coast. At the end, Frankie (Ione Skye) finds love with her soul mate, played by Mackenzie Astin, and as they are lying in each others’ arms, she falls fast asleep in what appears to be post-coital bliss. Sorry to spoil the surprise ending for you, but that’s just the way I am after being awake for too many hours. Cruelty calms my hallucinations.
Right. I’ve been married to my soul mate for nearly 18 years now. He has many good qualities. For one, he is dark-haired and handsome. He’s also patient and kind. But his love does not help me sleep. If it did, he’d be heaping it like coals on my head because he’s as tired of my not sleeping as I am.
So, again, I’m sending out my birthday wish. Tonight, I would like to sleep, because it’s no longer the 90s, and I’m no longer twenty-something and working at an espresso shop in the Pacific Northwest. Oh, look at that–the moon is full. I think I’ll drink another glass of wine. Maybe I’ll read some poetry–something witty, perhaps, that I’ll be able to quote to my friends tomorrow.
Another explosion! That one shook me to the core.
p.s. Thanks to Jim Vandagrift for the photo.
p.p.s Insomniacs never know when to quit because they are actually afraid to go to bed.