Sleepless in Podunk

Who didn't see it coming?

I avoided it for as long as possible, reading, cleaning, generally putting of my bedtime until it became one of those issues of survival for the following day (as in, go to bed now, or there's no way you'll survive tomorrow).  When I lay down, I knew.  The lights were off, including the annoying glare of my alarm clock/iPhone dock, and still the room was too bright, the waxing moon laying strips of illumination across my bed, across my pillow, across my cheek.

Somebody text messaged me about the time I almost managed to sleep the first time, and after that, I was too hot, too cold, too...something...for at least another hour.  I'd roll over, unsettle a cat or two in the process, try to find a spot the moon wasn't in, and close my eyes.  Then, after minutes that seemed like hours, I'd open them again, stare around the dark corners of my room as if some answer or remedy was hiding there, start the process again.

When I finally did doze off, I had nightmares.  I had suspected that I would.  Everything was in them, travel, my job, my students, friends, stuff I'm reading, stuff I've seen on TV lately.  My whole life was twisted into a massive, screwed up Bosch painting.

Tonight, I need some rest.  Therefore, I'm fortifying myself with chocolate, fluff TV, Jane Austen. Whatever I dream tonight, it needs to be full of light and unicorns.  I'm tired of the other.