Somnambul-
womb
1 : UTERUS
2 a : a cavity or space that resembles a womb in containing and enveloping b : a place where something is generated
Innately, as homo-sapiens, we are continually on a pilgrimage towards the womb. From the moment of conception our nucleus is embedding itself into warmth and blood in order to rest. Our meiotic core is exploding and dividing but fervently trying to hold onto to each other cell so as not to fall apart. From birth we learn to raise our hands in the hair, fingers clenched like cervical muscles before dilation, to bring something warm towards us. After being wiped and prodded, we cut our final physical tie with our mother and the scar that is left is the entrance to yet another womb. Then we are cocooned, wrapped and wrangled, dropped into inviting arms to nestle, in a nook, and begin our first unconfined rapid eye movement. This is how humans learn to consciously sleep.
(Potter, Kenneth. Dreaming of the Womb: The Origin of Sleep and Dreaming. Potter Publishing, Tacoma, Washington 1982.)
***
This morning before Greg Carter met Scott, he woke up on his floor. His face was flat against hardwood floor, dusty with cat hair, and his legs crooked like a river, tangled in sheets. He rose with a start, cracking his head on the underside of his semi-lofted bed, snapping his eyes back shut. For a moment, he honestly considered going back to sleep right there on his floor. The alarm was blaring and he knew that he had to get to work. Yet instead of getting up, showering and dressing, he laid there, half underneath the bed and laughed. His head was throbbing and his shoulder and back muscles tense after what he was sure was not a good night’s rest.
Finally, exhausted, Greg scooted himself over and willed his body to its feet; barely coherent of his surroundings or the time. This was his ritual, a habit. Steadily, over the years, it had been getting worse.
***
Noun 1. rapid eye movement - a recurring sleep state during which dreaming occurs; a state of Rapid Eye Movements during sleep
Throughout adolescence there is an unchanging need to return to sleep, to the womb. The corporeal form needs restorative sleep, as well as the psychological form needs solace. Many feel that it is not a coincidence that the body heals while the mind is dreaming.
(Potter, Kenneth. Dreamscapes and Hallways: The Pathology of the Subconscious during Restorative Sleep. Potter Publishing, Tacoma, Washington, 1983.)
***
To pinpoint the true moment Greg stopped dreaming would be almost impossible. He is aware of the fact that people always dream, and aware that the subconscious, supposedly busy with other affairs, cannot always retain dream images. Yet after an all too brief evening of some all too torrid sleep, he can’t help but think, I don’t dream. It doesn’t feel like it.
If I was in my restorative phase, then why do I feel like lead?
***
som·nam·bu·lism
Function: noun
1 : an abnormal condition of sleep in which motor acts (as walking) are performed
2 : actions characteristic of somnambulism
Regardless of the intrinsic scientific debate, there are palpable symptoms of all sleep disorders, even in the intangible world. It is not uncommon for many sufferers of parasomnia or dysomnia to voice feelings of loneliness as a symptom. Commonly sufferers find it difficult to fully bond with other people, especially romantically. And sleep patterns, both physically and emotionally, can be a deterrent for a potential mate or friend.
(Potter, Kenneth. REM Disruption: Fact or Fiction? Potter Publishing. Tacoma, Washington, 1984.)
***
Truthfully though, he was glad to not recall his dreams. As a child, Greg went through bouts of sleepwalking and fitful sleep. When he was young, before his personal grey areas were formed, things were divided into two categories: things that should happen and things that shouldn’t.
Greg could never illustrate to his friends how disconcerting it was for him, at the age of nine, to wake up with huge welts and bruises on his legs and shins; with his knuckles swollen and scratches on his arms. How stultifying it was to wake up in his closet or in the bathroom when he distinctly remembered tucking himself into bed. These were things that, simply, shouldn’t happen.
Symptoms: falling sleeps, bed drops, sudden starts, night fevers, muscle jerks, and panic wakes.
When he started therapy, for the first time of four, she told him, “These things are symptomatic of something larger. Medical sleep disorders are a myth.”
Silence.
“You’re a loner. Aren’t you Gregory? Only a few friends, your mother says? Do you talk to people? Your teachers say you always look tired. Have you looked into joining clubs?”
Silence.
Greg’s therapist wanted him to keep track of his dreams and he could only smile and nod.
***
som·nil·o·quy
n. pl. som·nil·o·quies
The act or habit of talking in one's sleep.
[somni- + Latin loqu, to speak; see soliloquy.]
som·nilo·quist n.
Some cultures believe that true prophets do not act out of waking visions, but through their dreams. They begin to look for signs in their waking life to direct themselves in their dreams.
(Potter, Kenneth. Pavor Nocturnus: The Myth of Sleeping Demons. Potter Publishing, Tacoma, Washington. 1986.)
***
It was his best friend and high school roommate who informed Greg that when he slept at night she always tried to stay awake longer than him to listen to what it was he was going to say in his slumber.
No small task for her as Greg was an insomniac and took at least two hours to fall asleep. Most nights she would doze off before he would, but on the occasions that she didn’t, she would recap for Greg.
“I never wanted to be superman.”
“I don’t think you can clean trees with peanut butter.”
“No, no, no, yes, no, no, no, cat and dog.”
“Watch out for ketchup that looks like blood.”
She thought, as she was always divining for answers and diverting accountability, that he was having visions. Which in part, Greg had convinced himself he was, but neither here nor there.
It was when, from across his queen sized futon, his fists clenched and punctuated his ramblings on her arms that she began sleeping in her own bed. Then, when Greg’s ramblings turned to ravings and eventually sporadic screams, that she slept in another room entirely. Greg’s only friend was scooting, gradually farther away.
I can’t blame her, Greg thought, One of us needs the rest.
If Greg had had a camera to film himself from above while he was sleeping, he would have viewed the first time his arms, in search of his roommate, found a pillow instead. He would see how his body would wrap itself around and finish a circle that only the pillow and Greg would have been able to see. If there was an archive of these sleeps, he could pinpoint the first night he pulled the blankets over his head, not because he was cold but for comfort. If Greg could see these things, he would know, that it was his bodies way, however violent, of finding solace.
***
Pavor Nocturnus (night terrors)
Night terrors are a disturbed state of consciousness related to sleepwalking, in which the child wakes in the night, often with a scream, appears extremely frightened, and is difficult to contact. The child remembers nothing the next morning. Night terrors characteristically occur in the first third of the night and are an arousal disorder.
Nights terrors, while common in children, prove more difficult to treat past the age of sixteen. The cause, either physical or psychological in nature, becomes harder to pinpoint and symptoms are less distinct and more easily rationalized by the patient. In early Native American history, it was believed adults who continued to call out in their sleep, exhibited tendencies of a possession. Certain tribes viewed it as an enlightenment while others viewed it as a dark omen.
(Potter, Kenneth. Now I lay me down: An investigation into adult aged Parasomnia. Potter Publishing, Tacoma, Washington. 1985.)
***
Towards the end of Greg’s high school years, with his part time job and after school commitments piling up, he found sleep to be a commodity that he owned no share of. This was also when the night terrors began. Greg would jerk awake, covered in sweat, and have no recollection of what had happened. It was common to find his best friend and roommate or his mother shaking him at his bedside, demanding to know what was going on.
Eventually their ears became so attuned to it, that they could ignore it. This seemed, to Greg, to be an unusual way of living. Greg began to research, living and sometimes sleeping in different libraries.
It was also at this time that Greg’s insomnia reached its crest and spent more time staring blankly at the ceiling than he ever did at the back of his eyelids. His solution, was horror movies.
Greg had particularly taking a liking to a series of films about a scarred figure who terrorized teenagers in their sleep and dreams. They would awake with cuts and burns and resisted sleep and were always screaming. Greg could relate.
While the few friends Gregory had were hopping off to parties and homecoming games, Greg stayed at home to watch these movies.
In one of these films, the children were referred to as warriors. Greg thought to himself, Maybe that is what it is. Every night I am fighting a battle.
In the movies, if the teenagers died in their dreams they died in the physical world as well.
Thank god, Greg sighed internally, At least I’m winning.
***
Parasomnia
Meaning "around sleep,"
Includes: sleepwalking, night terrors, bedwetting, and narcolepsy. All can create family difficulties, and some may be harmful to the child.
Through his research, Greg found a man who seemed to answer any question Greg could come up with. Dr. Ken Potter, a graduate of Northwestern University, studied not only sleep disorders but had written his thesis on night-time dysfunction and myths. The paper, entitled Modern Parasomnia and Mythological Roots, was available through request at Greg’s local library.
After the thesis Dr. Potter’s books followed:
Now I lay me down: An Investigation into Adult Aged Parasomnia
Pavor Nocturnus: The Myth of Sleeping Demons
Dreamscapes and Hallways: The Pathology of the Subconscious during Restorative Sleep
And Greg’s personal favorite:
Dreaming of the Womb: The Origin of Sleep and Dreaming
All of these books proved fascinating for Greg. He devoured them chapter after chapter, looking for an answer or a panacea. In reality the books only served to root more paranoia into Greg’s body.
Halfway through REM Disruption: Fact or Fiction? Greg not only began to fear for his sanity but his physical well being. In the book, Dr. Potter claimed to have monitored the progression of four REM deprived individuals. All of them, save one, dies of major organ failure. The survivor, still living, rests in a Private Residence, having lost his vision and ability to speak.
If Greg had bothered to check the spine of each of these books, he would have noticed, that each piece was published through a group called Potter Press, a privately owned publishing company run by Dr. Potter himself.
If Greg had bothered to look beyond Dr. Potter as a source, he would discovered just as many papers and reports denying the existence of REM Disruption as an actual disorder. Most professionals saw it as a combination of several sleeping disorders into one.
None of Mr. Potter’s research could be proved, as he kept the identities of his patients private and his research records in storage.
Not to say Dr. Potter was a charlatan. But dreams and sleep, an already high subjective field of study, was only lucrative if you are the only one to discover something. In order to survive, it was necessary to corner the market and never let go.
Regardless, Greg was convinced that he suffered from REM disruption.
After visiting two different sleep centers in two different cities, Greg had no choice but to turn to self treatment.
The first sleep center had told him he was a classic Parasomnia with a high level of stress and should begin working out at night and drinking warm milk. They also suggested he attempted a more active social life. Maybe attempt dating.
The second sleep center had informed Greg, after hooking him up to several beeping machines and EEGs, that there was something hidden deeper in his subconscious that was hindering normal brain activity. The problem, according to the doctors, was not specific, but they recommended therapy, anti-depressants, and sleeping aids. Greg took their advice but was still not satisfied.
Greg tried contacting Dr. Potter, in an act of deprivation, and never heard a response. Two letters arrived at Greg’s doorstep marked Return To Sender.
Greg had graduated college by this time and was beginning to resign himself to lifelong exhaustion and ache.
Every night Greg would sleep fitfully if at all, covers drawn over his head, pillows sucked into his body. On the occasion that he was sharing his bed, romantically or not (most likely not), the other person would find themselves being coerced into enveloping him. If they resisted, they too would wake up with bruises or Greg on his bedroom floor.
Greg began seeking out other people who believed in REM disruption. Through chat rooms and email groups Greg found fellow sufferers all willing to divulge tips or hints as to how to achieve the elusive eight hours of rest. Greg convinced himself, while he never heard these peoples’ voices and had never seen their faces, they were his real friends.
It was at a coffee shop, over a double espresso, at nine-thirty at night, that Greg made a breakthrough.
A young gentlemen sat across from him reading a dream encyclopedia. Greg himself was reading a book on Night Terror interpretation.
The man’s look was unmistakable. Bags under his eyes, heavy eyelids, atrocious posture and a slight twitch. His legs shook violently to a silent metronome and it made his floppy Sandy blonde hair bounce.
After another round of coffee and a few pleasantries, they both began talking about their sleeping patterns, or their lack thereof. They talked away the night, both of them knowing that bedtime wasn’t for another few hours and even shared a laugh or two.
Scott, as his name turned out to be stood up abruptly.
“I should be going. If I am going to get any sleep at all, which I won’t, I need to at least try now. Goodnight Gregory. It was very nice talking to you.”
Scott turned and left Greg alone with his coffee.
The weight of the evening bared down on him instantly.
Greg felt exhaustion coursing through his veins more so than usual, and a panic gnawing at his stomach.
I am missing an opportunity. Something could happen.
Gregory was outside of the coffee shop, calling Scott’s name and blushing at the same time.
“Scott,” he yelled and a sandy blond head turned. “Look, I’m not- that is to say…I don’t know if you are, and that isn’t the point, because if you are, I am not. Regardless this will sound weird. I have no agenda in my statement. I just, haven’t been around. That is to say…”
“Yes?” Scott questioned.
“Would you,” Greg stuttered, “Like to sleep with me?”
An electric pause.
“That is to say,” he continued, “Sleep in my bed with me. Fall asleep. With me?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes you do. That is the point.”
“Oh.”
“People who get it are harder to come by than I would like. And I rarely meet people in general.”
“Just to sleep?”
“Yes. For a night.”
Scott, wide eyed and slack jawed could only smile. Behind his eyes, Greg caught a story, similar yet different, but mostly he saw recognition.
***
Melatonin
(n.) a hormone made by a part of the brain called the pineal ( "pin-ee-all") gland. Melatonin may help our bodies know when it is time to sleep and time to wake up.
Ultimately, homo-sapiens will continue this pilgrimage, towards the womb, towards sleep, unknowingly until death. A coffin or an urn, akin to a womb, allows their arms to rest, their eyes to close, and their cells to finally drift apart; each individually sleeping.
(Carter, Greg. Journey into Movement: Sleep Recovery and Management. Random House Publishing. New York, New York. Proof edition published: 2006.)
1 : UTERUS
2 a : a cavity or space that resembles a womb in containing and enveloping b : a place where something is generated
Innately, as homo-sapiens, we are continually on a pilgrimage towards the womb. From the moment of conception our nucleus is embedding itself into warmth and blood in order to rest. Our meiotic core is exploding and dividing but fervently trying to hold onto to each other cell so as not to fall apart. From birth we learn to raise our hands in the hair, fingers clenched like cervical muscles before dilation, to bring something warm towards us. After being wiped and prodded, we cut our final physical tie with our mother and the scar that is left is the entrance to yet another womb. Then we are cocooned, wrapped and wrangled, dropped into inviting arms to nestle, in a nook, and begin our first unconfined rapid eye movement. This is how humans learn to consciously sleep.
(Potter, Kenneth. Dreaming of the Womb: The Origin of Sleep and Dreaming. Potter Publishing, Tacoma, Washington 1982.)
***
This morning before Greg Carter met Scott, he woke up on his floor. His face was flat against hardwood floor, dusty with cat hair, and his legs crooked like a river, tangled in sheets. He rose with a start, cracking his head on the underside of his semi-lofted bed, snapping his eyes back shut. For a moment, he honestly considered going back to sleep right there on his floor. The alarm was blaring and he knew that he had to get to work. Yet instead of getting up, showering and dressing, he laid there, half underneath the bed and laughed. His head was throbbing and his shoulder and back muscles tense after what he was sure was not a good night’s rest.
Finally, exhausted, Greg scooted himself over and willed his body to its feet; barely coherent of his surroundings or the time. This was his ritual, a habit. Steadily, over the years, it had been getting worse.
***
Noun 1. rapid eye movement - a recurring sleep state during which dreaming occurs; a state of Rapid Eye Movements during sleep
Throughout adolescence there is an unchanging need to return to sleep, to the womb. The corporeal form needs restorative sleep, as well as the psychological form needs solace. Many feel that it is not a coincidence that the body heals while the mind is dreaming.
(Potter, Kenneth. Dreamscapes and Hallways: The Pathology of the Subconscious during Restorative Sleep. Potter Publishing, Tacoma, Washington, 1983.)
***
To pinpoint the true moment Greg stopped dreaming would be almost impossible. He is aware of the fact that people always dream, and aware that the subconscious, supposedly busy with other affairs, cannot always retain dream images. Yet after an all too brief evening of some all too torrid sleep, he can’t help but think, I don’t dream. It doesn’t feel like it.
If I was in my restorative phase, then why do I feel like lead?
***
som·nam·bu·lism
Function: noun
1 : an abnormal condition of sleep in which motor acts (as walking) are performed
2 : actions characteristic of somnambulism
Regardless of the intrinsic scientific debate, there are palpable symptoms of all sleep disorders, even in the intangible world. It is not uncommon for many sufferers of parasomnia or dysomnia to voice feelings of loneliness as a symptom. Commonly sufferers find it difficult to fully bond with other people, especially romantically. And sleep patterns, both physically and emotionally, can be a deterrent for a potential mate or friend.
(Potter, Kenneth. REM Disruption: Fact or Fiction? Potter Publishing. Tacoma, Washington, 1984.)
***
Truthfully though, he was glad to not recall his dreams. As a child, Greg went through bouts of sleepwalking and fitful sleep. When he was young, before his personal grey areas were formed, things were divided into two categories: things that should happen and things that shouldn’t.
Greg could never illustrate to his friends how disconcerting it was for him, at the age of nine, to wake up with huge welts and bruises on his legs and shins; with his knuckles swollen and scratches on his arms. How stultifying it was to wake up in his closet or in the bathroom when he distinctly remembered tucking himself into bed. These were things that, simply, shouldn’t happen.
Symptoms: falling sleeps, bed drops, sudden starts, night fevers, muscle jerks, and panic wakes.
When he started therapy, for the first time of four, she told him, “These things are symptomatic of something larger. Medical sleep disorders are a myth.”
Silence.
“You’re a loner. Aren’t you Gregory? Only a few friends, your mother says? Do you talk to people? Your teachers say you always look tired. Have you looked into joining clubs?”
Silence.
Greg’s therapist wanted him to keep track of his dreams and he could only smile and nod.
***
som·nil·o·quy
n. pl. som·nil·o·quies
The act or habit of talking in one's sleep.
[somni- + Latin loqu, to speak; see soliloquy.]
som·nilo·quist n.
Some cultures believe that true prophets do not act out of waking visions, but through their dreams. They begin to look for signs in their waking life to direct themselves in their dreams.
(Potter, Kenneth. Pavor Nocturnus: The Myth of Sleeping Demons. Potter Publishing, Tacoma, Washington. 1986.)
***
It was his best friend and high school roommate who informed Greg that when he slept at night she always tried to stay awake longer than him to listen to what it was he was going to say in his slumber.
No small task for her as Greg was an insomniac and took at least two hours to fall asleep. Most nights she would doze off before he would, but on the occasions that she didn’t, she would recap for Greg.
“I never wanted to be superman.”
“I don’t think you can clean trees with peanut butter.”
“No, no, no, yes, no, no, no, cat and dog.”
“Watch out for ketchup that looks like blood.”
She thought, as she was always divining for answers and diverting accountability, that he was having visions. Which in part, Greg had convinced himself he was, but neither here nor there.
It was when, from across his queen sized futon, his fists clenched and punctuated his ramblings on her arms that she began sleeping in her own bed. Then, when Greg’s ramblings turned to ravings and eventually sporadic screams, that she slept in another room entirely. Greg’s only friend was scooting, gradually farther away.
I can’t blame her, Greg thought, One of us needs the rest.
If Greg had had a camera to film himself from above while he was sleeping, he would have viewed the first time his arms, in search of his roommate, found a pillow instead. He would see how his body would wrap itself around and finish a circle that only the pillow and Greg would have been able to see. If there was an archive of these sleeps, he could pinpoint the first night he pulled the blankets over his head, not because he was cold but for comfort. If Greg could see these things, he would know, that it was his bodies way, however violent, of finding solace.
***
Pavor Nocturnus (night terrors)
Night terrors are a disturbed state of consciousness related to sleepwalking, in which the child wakes in the night, often with a scream, appears extremely frightened, and is difficult to contact. The child remembers nothing the next morning. Night terrors characteristically occur in the first third of the night and are an arousal disorder.
Nights terrors, while common in children, prove more difficult to treat past the age of sixteen. The cause, either physical or psychological in nature, becomes harder to pinpoint and symptoms are less distinct and more easily rationalized by the patient. In early Native American history, it was believed adults who continued to call out in their sleep, exhibited tendencies of a possession. Certain tribes viewed it as an enlightenment while others viewed it as a dark omen.
(Potter, Kenneth. Now I lay me down: An investigation into adult aged Parasomnia. Potter Publishing, Tacoma, Washington. 1985.)
***
Towards the end of Greg’s high school years, with his part time job and after school commitments piling up, he found sleep to be a commodity that he owned no share of. This was also when the night terrors began. Greg would jerk awake, covered in sweat, and have no recollection of what had happened. It was common to find his best friend and roommate or his mother shaking him at his bedside, demanding to know what was going on.
Eventually their ears became so attuned to it, that they could ignore it. This seemed, to Greg, to be an unusual way of living. Greg began to research, living and sometimes sleeping in different libraries.
It was also at this time that Greg’s insomnia reached its crest and spent more time staring blankly at the ceiling than he ever did at the back of his eyelids. His solution, was horror movies.
Greg had particularly taking a liking to a series of films about a scarred figure who terrorized teenagers in their sleep and dreams. They would awake with cuts and burns and resisted sleep and were always screaming. Greg could relate.
While the few friends Gregory had were hopping off to parties and homecoming games, Greg stayed at home to watch these movies.
In one of these films, the children were referred to as warriors. Greg thought to himself, Maybe that is what it is. Every night I am fighting a battle.
In the movies, if the teenagers died in their dreams they died in the physical world as well.
Thank god, Greg sighed internally, At least I’m winning.
***
Parasomnia
Meaning "around sleep,"
Includes: sleepwalking, night terrors, bedwetting, and narcolepsy. All can create family difficulties, and some may be harmful to the child.
Through his research, Greg found a man who seemed to answer any question Greg could come up with. Dr. Ken Potter, a graduate of Northwestern University, studied not only sleep disorders but had written his thesis on night-time dysfunction and myths. The paper, entitled Modern Parasomnia and Mythological Roots, was available through request at Greg’s local library.
After the thesis Dr. Potter’s books followed:
Now I lay me down: An Investigation into Adult Aged Parasomnia
Pavor Nocturnus: The Myth of Sleeping Demons
Dreamscapes and Hallways: The Pathology of the Subconscious during Restorative Sleep
And Greg’s personal favorite:
Dreaming of the Womb: The Origin of Sleep and Dreaming
All of these books proved fascinating for Greg. He devoured them chapter after chapter, looking for an answer or a panacea. In reality the books only served to root more paranoia into Greg’s body.
Halfway through REM Disruption: Fact or Fiction? Greg not only began to fear for his sanity but his physical well being. In the book, Dr. Potter claimed to have monitored the progression of four REM deprived individuals. All of them, save one, dies of major organ failure. The survivor, still living, rests in a Private Residence, having lost his vision and ability to speak.
If Greg had bothered to check the spine of each of these books, he would have noticed, that each piece was published through a group called Potter Press, a privately owned publishing company run by Dr. Potter himself.
If Greg had bothered to look beyond Dr. Potter as a source, he would discovered just as many papers and reports denying the existence of REM Disruption as an actual disorder. Most professionals saw it as a combination of several sleeping disorders into one.
None of Mr. Potter’s research could be proved, as he kept the identities of his patients private and his research records in storage.
Not to say Dr. Potter was a charlatan. But dreams and sleep, an already high subjective field of study, was only lucrative if you are the only one to discover something. In order to survive, it was necessary to corner the market and never let go.
Regardless, Greg was convinced that he suffered from REM disruption.
After visiting two different sleep centers in two different cities, Greg had no choice but to turn to self treatment.
The first sleep center had told him he was a classic Parasomnia with a high level of stress and should begin working out at night and drinking warm milk. They also suggested he attempted a more active social life. Maybe attempt dating.
The second sleep center had informed Greg, after hooking him up to several beeping machines and EEGs, that there was something hidden deeper in his subconscious that was hindering normal brain activity. The problem, according to the doctors, was not specific, but they recommended therapy, anti-depressants, and sleeping aids. Greg took their advice but was still not satisfied.
Greg tried contacting Dr. Potter, in an act of deprivation, and never heard a response. Two letters arrived at Greg’s doorstep marked Return To Sender.
Greg had graduated college by this time and was beginning to resign himself to lifelong exhaustion and ache.
Every night Greg would sleep fitfully if at all, covers drawn over his head, pillows sucked into his body. On the occasion that he was sharing his bed, romantically or not (most likely not), the other person would find themselves being coerced into enveloping him. If they resisted, they too would wake up with bruises or Greg on his bedroom floor.
Greg began seeking out other people who believed in REM disruption. Through chat rooms and email groups Greg found fellow sufferers all willing to divulge tips or hints as to how to achieve the elusive eight hours of rest. Greg convinced himself, while he never heard these peoples’ voices and had never seen their faces, they were his real friends.
It was at a coffee shop, over a double espresso, at nine-thirty at night, that Greg made a breakthrough.
A young gentlemen sat across from him reading a dream encyclopedia. Greg himself was reading a book on Night Terror interpretation.
The man’s look was unmistakable. Bags under his eyes, heavy eyelids, atrocious posture and a slight twitch. His legs shook violently to a silent metronome and it made his floppy Sandy blonde hair bounce.
After another round of coffee and a few pleasantries, they both began talking about their sleeping patterns, or their lack thereof. They talked away the night, both of them knowing that bedtime wasn’t for another few hours and even shared a laugh or two.
Scott, as his name turned out to be stood up abruptly.
“I should be going. If I am going to get any sleep at all, which I won’t, I need to at least try now. Goodnight Gregory. It was very nice talking to you.”
Scott turned and left Greg alone with his coffee.
The weight of the evening bared down on him instantly.
Greg felt exhaustion coursing through his veins more so than usual, and a panic gnawing at his stomach.
I am missing an opportunity. Something could happen.
Gregory was outside of the coffee shop, calling Scott’s name and blushing at the same time.
“Scott,” he yelled and a sandy blond head turned. “Look, I’m not- that is to say…I don’t know if you are, and that isn’t the point, because if you are, I am not. Regardless this will sound weird. I have no agenda in my statement. I just, haven’t been around. That is to say…”
“Yes?” Scott questioned.
“Would you,” Greg stuttered, “Like to sleep with me?”
An electric pause.
“That is to say,” he continued, “Sleep in my bed with me. Fall asleep. With me?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes you do. That is the point.”
“Oh.”
“People who get it are harder to come by than I would like. And I rarely meet people in general.”
“Just to sleep?”
“Yes. For a night.”
Scott, wide eyed and slack jawed could only smile. Behind his eyes, Greg caught a story, similar yet different, but mostly he saw recognition.
***
Melatonin
(n.) a hormone made by a part of the brain called the pineal ( "pin-ee-all") gland. Melatonin may help our bodies know when it is time to sleep and time to wake up.
Ultimately, homo-sapiens will continue this pilgrimage, towards the womb, towards sleep, unknowingly until death. A coffin or an urn, akin to a womb, allows their arms to rest, their eyes to close, and their cells to finally drift apart; each individually sleeping.
(Carter, Greg. Journey into Movement: Sleep Recovery and Management. Random House Publishing. New York, New York. Proof edition published: 2006.)
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