What dreams may come.....

Hamlet:
"To sleep, perchance to dream-
ay, there's the rub."

I'll admit, I have always had a love/hate relationship with sleep. 

When I was a kid, sleep represented missing out on all of the cool stuff. I was throughly convinced that the best things, in all the universe, had to happen after bedtime.

As a teen, sleep became amazing, and as a mother to young children it was like a mythical animal I only half remembered from a fairy tale.

These days, sleep is quite like a fearsome monster guarding a tower in which I am trapped. A tower that happens to be surrounded by ravenous owlbears.

Let me attempt to frame this picture for you.

This tower represents my waking hours. It's ok as far as towers go. Diversions to be had, nourishment, even company to enjoy during the day. Certainly liveable, and I daresay even nicer than some other towers. Then the night comes. Everyone leaves, the dishes are washed and entertainments put neatly away on their shelves. It becomes cold, lifeless, lonely.

I should have followed everyone else out of the tower. They've all gone to a cozy warm place. But I was afraid and now there is a terrible guard at the door.

He goes by many names, depending on the night. Anxiety. Insomnia. Pain. He's one mean son of a bitch. "They make things for those kinds of monsters!" you say. Sure, I could smite him with the "Hammer of Xanax" or run him through with the Sword of Ambien", but he's not just keeping me in, he's also keeping the owlbears out.

The owlbears outside the tower are what happens when I do sleep.

Sometimes, they are gentle. They wait for me to slip out and just when I think I am safe, they scoop me up and throw me back in the tower. These are the nights where I manage to fall asleep but only for a little while at a time. Then I wake up, vaguely uncomfortable or needing water, or to pee because of water I had earlier....ect. I can pass a whole night with very little rest at all despite having "slept" all night.

Then there are the nights the owlbears attack me full force with no mercy. These are the nights when I escape the tower and go to the land of sleep. But when I get to sleep, I am awoken very soon by that excruciating pain I have told you about, that runs down my arm. Or by the horrible throbbing in my joints.

My only defense is to run back to my tower, and let the monster keep me in. I pace back and forth, I take boiling hot baths, I blog. There is not sleep on those nights.

It's such a weird place to be, between my tower and my monster.

I miss so deeply, sleepy weekend mornings, rolling over to see my husband just waking up himself. Spending quiet snuggling hours just laughing and talking after a good nights sleep.

I miss afternoon naps, when the couch turns into a paradise and you slip away on an unexpected journey to dreamland.

Instead, most mornings I am awake way before anyone else. My hubby wakes up looking for me and asking if I got any sleep at all. My kids tell me that I should at least try to go back to bed.

A nap has gone from being a luxury to a punishment. If I lay down and nap, the rest of the day is shot. No recovering.

So the next night you snuggle down to bed, excited to dream about Channing Tatum or Scarlett Johansson, enjoy it. Relish it. Appreciate it. I'll be fighting off the owlbears.