Inmind Explosions

"Do you wake up during the night, at 3 or 4am?"

The girl at the health shop asks me. She is very little, with big eyes. She tells me about remedies that she uses when she has panic attacks, or feels nervous. She looks like the kind of person who has panic attacks. Many of them. She says she uses these remedies on her dog, too.

I buy a $20 herbal sleeping remedy: Clear Sleep.

* * * * *

I never used to wake up during the night, I think as I toss and turn in my bed. Sheets on, sheets off. Sleeping on my back, no my side, no my front. It's like I have no sleep left in me. I am actually tired of sleeping.

Maybe, they recommend you one sleeping remedy so you will ultimately need another.

I feel dehydrated. I lean over to check the time on my cellphone. 3:39am. No way. If it were 6am, or even 5:30, I would have considered getting out of bed. But 3:39 is ridiculous.

I get out of bed anyway, and go to the kitchen to get some water. Someone was in there before, I heard them rustling foil, boiling water. But they are not there now. The light from outside reflects off the rangehood providing me with all the illumination I need. I wait a few seconds.

Maybe, something is going to happen in my bed at 3:40am, and it's lucky that I am not there during those few seconds. Maybe, my bed is too small (although I don't know why it would have taken me two months to realise this). Maybe I've just had too much sleep over the weekend.

Back under the covers invisible hands wring my heart, only it's not my heart. It's a sponge, and they squeeze the water out of it which flows into a giant rivier like the river of tears when Alice cried in wonderland. An iceberg floats on this and a demon stands on the iceberg. I stand before the demon.

"Go home!" I yell at him, but he only laughs.

"Go home!"

He is not the demon anymore but my sister's boyfriend. I am asking him to leave because my dad is upset and he is telling me that he doesn't want to. I am accusing him of having no respect.

A white face floats before me, painted on the lens of my eye. Wherever I look, it is there, blurring my vision. I think about spirits and ghosts, and then I am afraid to open my eyes because someone is standing at the foot of my bed. Someone dressed in white, with no eyes.

I know there is nothing there, and I force my eyes open. The room is empty. I turn on the light and make sure.

I make myself stop thinking about spirits and ghouls. I think, instead, about Jonno, and bowling with Fox, Stokes and Arend. I think about Mike. I think about first and second year. I think about the coffee I will order when I get to university later in the morning, and the muffin I will eat.

5:49am. The hour is reasonable, and there are no spirits around. I get up, knowing I will regret it later.

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