Insomnia, the dreaded I-word. The thief of sleep, curse of the sleeping class. A pernicious awakefullness. A bad dream of sleep. A generous torture. A sonnet of surrender. A dull bed of spikes. Blood shot shut eye. I’ve eaten enough melatonin to put L-tryptophan to sleep. Tried all the common remedies like warm milk but just burped milk all night. Chamomile tea is lovely but it cannot chamomile me to sleep. Benadryl just makes me wish I had an allergic reaction so it could at least do some good. Valerian, similarian. I’ve counted sheep till they died of old age. Soundlessly repeated the longest word in the English language, read the top 13 most boring books, joined a chat room for insomniacs, but all their chatting just got on my nerves, got up when I couldn’t sleep, lay back down when I felt tired, only to get up again, until it became just another form of exercise. Tried white noise machines till I felt like a racist, and yes, tested the Dr. Oz remedy that he just got sued for. I’ve written novels and movies in my I-sleep, as well as songs, poems, threatening letters to despots, crafted strategies for revenge on—well, everyone, especially good sleepers—comedy routines, plays, million dollar inventions that never seemed as brilliant in the groggy light of day, and wandered the land of lost sleep, a kind of reverse Neverland, with no end in sight and straight on till morning. I once wrote: Beware of insomniacs; they are at least eight hours ahead of you. So, Peter, a Chinese friend, suggested I visit a renowned practitioner of Chinese medicine to see if he could help. At the hospital, I was seated, arm resting on a pad, while the very cordial doctor placed three fingers on my upturned wrist. He felt my pulse and in essence listened to my inner music. He spoke to his scribbling assistant, who made the kind of doctor scribbling notes on an RX prescription pad. After about a minute, he lifted his hand to reveal three red fingerprints on my wrist, and though I have repeatedly tried to reproduce those marks on my own, I have been unable to do so. They were like the suction marks left by an octopus, noting his authority, leaving his imprint briefly on my skin like a signature. The doctor said he could help and cautioned against eating butter, cheese, milk, coffee and steak, shook my hand warmly and we went to fill the prescription. This was taken in scoops and weighed on portable hand scales from rows of lettered, light brown drawers, an amazing display of the diversity of natural barks, berries, mushroom and things absolutely nobody could translate into English. Then, we were told to come back in three and a half hours to pick up the properly steeped concoction. I ended up with twenty-two sealed plastic pouches of brown liquid about the size of my hand and told to take one three times a day, after meals. I was also given Wuling capsules, which the box claimed, and I quote, were tonifying kidney and strengthening brain refreshing spirit and tranquilization. All in all, a pretty interesting experience. I am keeping my hopes up, and if this works, I will sacrifice a goat for every member of the doctor’s family. Or maybe a picture of a goat, you know—just not sure about all that blood and stuff.
The cure is supposed to take a while to take effect, and I will surely keep you posted. Until then . . . sleep in heav-en-ly peee-eeece . . . Sleep in heavenly, peace.
2 Comments
Mary
3/20/2013 07:36:47 am
Hey ee, I was just thinking about you and figured you were exhausted from that long trip and there you are writing about it. Sorry to say I do not have that problem I sleep soundly except for my husband and dog who wake me shocking up at all hours. Maybe Chinese herbs will do the trick we have a new Vetinerian who uses Chinese herbs for dogs (I haven't tried her yet but maybe I will) See how yours works out first. Well insomniacs will love your descriptive writing!!!! No more counting endless sheep ----- sleep in heav-en-ly peee-eeece . . . from now on...love ya, M
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4/23/2013 08:12:11 am
yo, brother. it was good to have a day to catch up on the diaries and think about my next set of travels (wherever they may be). it's always so great to follow you along on yours. that website url (above) is one to explore when you have a high speed internet connection at hand and an hour of spare time. big love, bruce
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