Bed

The tablets she takes at nine put her to sleep by ten. A solid sleep she gets for a mere four hours, five if she’s lucky, before she wakes, her mind racing. She repositions herself in the bed, laptop poised on a wheeled table, positioned beside her, ready to play what will forever be deemed, her sleepy time game, ‘ticket to ride.’ As she drifts off once more, two hours have passed. She has both won, and lost, an equal number of games rendering her score, overall, untouched.

She looks at the clock as her eyes close like a door with a breeze behind it…its 1:14! Her racing mind follows her into her slumber, her dreams full of absolutely everything and anything you can imagine.

She wakes with a start, sitting upright in the bed. A cyclops had just begun to swing his brown, wooden, spike encrusted club in her direction. She can feel the sweat on her brow, her breath uneven with panic. She hangs her head after looking at the clock…its only 2:55.

She is in awe at how her laptop seems to be in a glorious state of realm sleep, its screen black. She wakes it up by moving the mouse and wins her next game, bringing her score up to 1200, the highest she has ever reached. As she celebrates quietly, she is challenged to another game by the same person she has just beaten from the online community. She smiles to herself and graciously accepts the offer. She frantically lays train after train, collecting ticket after ticket, when out of the blue, sleep catches up with her, her allotted time running out making her forfeit the game. It’s 3:29.

This time her past trauma catches up with her. She is frightened out of her wits! She prays to wake, not thinking about the clock, just about her mental health which this particular dream impacts detrimentally. Finally, just before the unspeakable happens, she is sitting bolt upright again. It’s 4:21.

She gets up from the torture chamber that is her bed and makes her way to the bathroom, her knee almost buckling under her as she walks. She can hear the crunching and grinding it makes as she travels the two-meter distance to the toilet, holding on to the bed, then the open door for support. Although there is no reason for her to be in the bathroom, she sits there to get a well-deserved break, the door closed, the bed out of sight. She knows it’s deemed necessary to give herself a pep talk as to how much sleep she needs! But, because of the sheer speed at which her mind, which is moving at one thousand kilometers an hour, is racing, it makes it impossible for her to convince herself that sleep is essential. She knows it to be more likely that her subconscious will conjure up a situation she is going to wake from.

Pep talk over, she splashes some of the highly pressurised water, that escapes from the tap, with haste, all over her face, trying desperately to wash the salt ridden sweat off her brow. As she returns to the bedroom, a cold shiver travels down her spine when she sees the bed directly in front of her. She would much prefer to get up and get ready for the day, but it is only 5:13.

As she sits on the edge of the bed, she deems the panic button warranted, it’s colour turning red as she brushes her thumb against it. She can hear keys in the distance, growing closer by the second. The door bursts open and there stands a friendly face, all be it covered by a mask.

She begins to explain her tale of woe, and how petrified she is to return to bed. She gets a pep talk coming from a different angle, one in which she needs to hear badly, and nods to her understanding of how important sleep actually is! It's 5:34. She once again moves the mouse, her computer groaning at the interruption of a dream it was having by way of the fans spinning fast and loud. She challenges a total stranger to her sleepy time game, and, after winning two games in a row, her score rises yet again.

As the curtains are open, she can see dawn, yet the heavy feeling of her eyes alerts her to the fact that she isn’t ready to get up. As she lays on the bed, she feels like she is on a train, the bushes and trees going by the window in a blur. Those same bushes and trees are a metaphor for her thoughts. She is so distressed that she is unable to finish one thought before the next one arises. The clock reads 6:09. She throws caution to the wind and starts another game, knowing that her eyes will shut before the end results are shown.

She is in a deep, echoing circular shaped structure, its walls damp and covered in moss. She deduces that she is underground as she can only see a flicker of light from above. She calls out for help, her echoing voice travelling upwards…but no one comes. Water starts to rise, covering her feet, then her legs, and finally her torso. This encapsulates two of her greatest fears, drowning, and being buried alive!

As the rising water reaches her neck, panic attacking her from all angles, she tries to move her feet in order to keep her head above water. They are stuck! She frantically moves her head backwards, taking in the last big deep breath of air before she is submerged, unable to do anything about it. She slowly lets the air out of her lungs, bubbles rising from her nostrils. She sits up with a jolt, her breathing shallow and puts her hand to her chest, relieved that she can see light spilling through the window. She looks at her clock for the last time. It’s 6:58!

‘That’s enough for one night!’ she sighs, exhausted from her broken sleep and wheels her sleeping laptop, of which she is envious, into its daytime position. She sits on her purple tub chair and wipes her eyes with her fists ready for a new day!