When sleep eludes me

When sleep eludes me

It's five past one in the a.m. and my eyes are still wide open.

When I was a kid I had this somewhat macabre way of putting myself to sleep. It didn't work all the time, but enough times to make me attempt it again and again.

The thrill it gave me is the same reason why we go on rollers coaster rides or watch horror movies that we know would scare us silly. It's that jolt we sometimes need to remind us that we still have a pulse. I've only recently been able to articulate it as...feeling alive.

How? I'd scare myself to sleep.

The subject of my horror always lays half in darkness, his only visible features are the eyes, bloodshot and bulging. Arms by his side, he stands there watching me, at my bedside. Sometimes he's at the window, fingers gripping the grill and face pressed up against the glass. I'd imagine his rasping breath, wheezing and wheezing, the stench of rot floats over me. The clearer I see him in my mind, the more real he'd become.

Pretty soon I'd be curled up in a tight ball of limbs and covers.

My eyes are shut tight against the horror that was watching me, simply watching me, not making a sound but I can him saying, "I'm here. I know you're awake. You summoned me from your wildest imagination and here I am. Open your eyes and see me...."

This would be about the time I pull the covers way over my head and drown my face in my pillows.

Oh crap, I'm still sitting in front of my pc...