I TRY TO DO IT WITH MY EYES CLOSED

I am a GREAT sleeper. I can sleep through all versions of booms, crashes and thunders. And I can sleep just about ANYWHERE. This is not an admittance in any way that I ‘sleep around’… mind out of the gutter people. It’s that I can do so anywhere. Your uncomfortable chair no one ever sits on? Let me at it. Don’t hate me all you toss-ers and turners.

After poring over my book (the pages I will probably need to reread the next night), I adjust my pillow and then I am out for the count. That is… once my brainy thoughts have finally simmered down.

I rarely awaken to answer the call of nature, although once a week I am jarred awake by my husband’s swift punch or sudden kick while supposedly having a fight dream. But immediately after calling the fight I am back in dreamland.

The actual state of slumber is no problem for me –  it’s in the phase before sleepy-time where the difficulties come into play.

The moment I settle down for beddy-bye my mind weaves every which way; mulling over various scenarios. It’s a meandering envisioning and tiptoes into ideas I would prefer to banish from thought OR veers into dreamy, preposterous wanderings.

what am i thinking about you ask?

You asked!

My brain hangs a left and begins the creation of a L O N G list of next-day undertakings. WOW LOOK AT ALL THE STUFF I WILL SWEEPINGLY ACCOMPLISH TOMORROW.

And yet when morning materializes it’s less diligent doing/more premonition of putting off. It’s an oft repeated ‘dusk to dawn’ practice. So why don’t I thoughtfully revise that part of my nightly mind game? 

You tell me.

My brain hangs a right and, more likely, I can’t stop thinking about everything I was supposed to have accomplished prior to bedtime. It’s a fool’s paradise of chaos, contemplation and aspiration. STOOOOOPPPPP.

Invariably I ruminate over my actual age – versus my emotional age – versus my physical age while trying really, really hard to sidestep my reluctance in the actual version by trying really, really hard to focus on my immense gratitude. Yikes.

I love the living, LIVING aspect. But can’t help the segue into doom, gloom and demise. And that puts me in a funk (and keeps me from dozing off). Having fun yet?  

brainstorms

In the early months of the pandemic, during my nocturnal pondering, I had a stroke of genius involving a piano. Do I have a piano? Yes. Can I tickle the ivories? Nope. But my brain said, “you are going to learn to play your piano!”

Oh how deliciously I imagined all the melodious masterpieces that would soon fill my home. Plunked by me!

I am embarrassed to admit that our beautiful piano has stayed silent; remaining nothing but a tabletop display of family photos, an exquisite sculpture chiseled by my daughter, several art books, a pair of candlesticks and a white orchid plant.

Soon after, my hilarious brain kicked around adding a new language to my repertoire of one. Looking for a course of action I googled the how… Rosetta Stone, Babbel, “Ten Best Ways to Learn a New Language”, etc. So many fab options to consider.

I considered.

So far English remains my only language.

Owing to the fact that becoming versed in a new language did not occur, my clever hippocampus (naturally ??) tossed around the idea of experimenting with a new accent. “Chi-CAW-go” wasn’t cutting it.

Next day I couldn’t decide between British, French, Australian or Italian. And so it remained a puzzling concoction of British-French-Australian-Italian and eventually Southern. Even when aah gave eet my baest shot y’all.

It’s exhausting.

You’d think that would be enough to turn off my brain and sink into slumber. You’d think.

here’s the good news

At long last, when I am completely ‘out like a light’, I get to surrender to my treasure of dreams; rarely a nightmarish situation. Mine are delightful fantasies and colorful concoctions that I often recall then entertain my thrilled, fascinated, rapt, tired husband with. EACH AND EVERY DETAIL.

Oh how I wish I could pull them from my noggin and play them like a video for all to see. And of course you’ll ask for an unabridged, uncensored, exhaustive transcript.

YOU KNOW YOU’LL WANT TO.

SAID NO ONE EVER.

And I must admit my bedtime brain is indeed wonderfully vibrant and aspirational. It appears to have quite a high opinion of itself. Look at all it thinks I can do!

Still… I’m trying to find the balance between the ambitious optimism prior to sleep and the lazily achievable morning after.

HOW THE HELL DO I GET MY BRAIN TO STOP TALKING TO ITSELF?

Note to brain: my cerebral pal, unlike your mastermind of a to-do list, my to-do for you is small but mighty. Here’s my proposal, “if I promise to be a more enthusiastic partner in your elaborate, utopian ideas, will you kindly offer some impressive effort to up my word retrievals’ status quo?” With deep gratitude and appreciation, me.

~featured dog image

~photo from personal collection