It’s about time to go to sleep.
I turn off the lights and go under the covers. I’m a bit tired. I close my eyes, think happy thoughts, review my day in my mind. Something’s off, though, and I can’t put my finger on it. So I start to get anxious about not falling asleep, so my heart starts beating like a drip from a leak. A little faster. Nothing too bad.
Then I tell myself to fall asleep and the dripping gets faster again. I turn to the other side of the bed. Check the time.
Dear God it’s late.
I forgot to say sh’ma. Maybe that’s it. So I say sh’ma and turn to the original side of the bed. I close my eyes. It’s going to be all right. I reassure myself that I can fall asleep if I just try a little bit harder.
The dripping is rapid now.
I try to divert my mind and focus on my day but I start to drown in the flooding. Can’t hear my own thoughts over the beat of my heart.
I’m never going to be able to fall asleep. Ever. I’ll just pull an all-nighter sitting in my bed, in the dark, alone.
I catch myself. Stop thinking so much. Embrace the water. Fall deeper. Breathe deeper.
Eyes relax. Muscles relax. Mind still. The dripping slows.
Right then, I hear it.
The Muezzin, a dog, a motherfreaking rooster. It may be a truck starting in the distance. It shakes me up and the dripping starts all over. I scream to myself, and would scream out loud if I didn’t have two sleeping roommates. Because somehow, everyone else in the world can fall asleep.
Check the time again. No human being should be up this late. Not doing something this boring, at least.
Shut up, rooster. If you don’t shut up I swear I will shecht you. What are you even doing in this century? I have an alarm clock to wake me up.
An alarm clock that’s going off in three hours.
Wait. Two hours.
I scream to myself again.
This isn’t helping. Try to sink again into the water, which is easier now because it’s rising above my bed. Drip drip, pitter patter, heart won’t stop. I try to breathe, and nearly choke on the water that surrounds me. Time to get out of bed.
Walk around the kitchen for a bit. Take a glass of water. Go to the bathroom. Peek inside my room. Return to the kitchen and lean neck against the edge of chair. Resort to desperate measures. Retrieve cell phone from room.
“Mom? I can’t fall asleep…”
My mom asks how she can help. Should she sing to me? I sense the half-joke in her voice. Honestly, it can’t hurt.
Mom forgets most of the words to the songs. I chuckle then remember that it’s about the time that some people wake up for work.
Try reading, she suggests as I sigh. Read something boring.
So I slip back into bed. The dripping has slowed. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m calmer or because all the water has fallen through already, but I’m done caring. I pull out my phone and play Sudoku. My eyes start to close to the slowing beat of the drips and I plug my mind. I put my phone on the side of my bed, snuggle under the covers, and sink asleep.