Sometime around 1:30am I get in bed. I turn off the lights and put my earbuds in. There’s a music meditation that helped me sleep a few days ago—I listen to it for 20 minutes and I start to feel my mind drifting off.
Water, windchimes, rain—the melody of the music carries me, and I’m standing at the top of some stone steps. Bamboo leaves graze my cheek as I descend to small round courtyard with a waterfall on one side. I kneel on the meditation mat. I inhale. I smile at the waterfall.
Slowly, the music fades. I drop my phone off the side of the bed and lay there.
And lay there.
My mind is falling asleep, but part of it is latched on to waking-ness. Time leaches by. My watch says 3:30am.
I’m starting to get hungry. It’s been 6 hours since dinner, after all. I wander downstairs and get a snack. I chew on some dried mangos and drink some water as I walk back up to my room.
I turn the lights off again and pull the covers over me.
Insomnia feels like…
There is no one to talk to. No one to pick up the phone. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. Everything is closed. There is just darkness and my mind. Nearly napping.
I’m exhausted. I get up and go to the bathroom.
My mind is clenched. I have a headache, I’m so tired. I’m bored. I don’t want to do anything stimulating, I’m too tired to do anything intelligent.
Time is dripping along.
I open up my computer to write.