I’m sleepless and grumpy. Agitated by the settled breathing of your dreams, the droll lumbering spinning of the fan, and the heavy pile of blankets pushing down on my body. I push them back one by one, peeling off how lovingly you placed them over me hours before, worried I’d be cold in a place we were promised never saw the frost.
I’m no longer agitated.
The sound of your breathing is calming and so I try to match my own with its pace but it’s the breaths only met in deep sleep.
The light of my phone casts a dull glow across the ceiling and I watch the shadows of the blades of the fan. It reminds me of the engines of planes I flew on to be with you, the spinning of my head the morning you brought me to hospital and the heat of the house our first summer here, when all we had were these fans to keep us cool.
I started writing this while bored and wanting to sleep, and now I’m glad to be awake, reliving imperfect realities we shared while you dream of filtered versions of us, a fantasy world, or, more likely, food.
And now I’m hungry and wanting to snap out of this style of writing but my brain is switched to serious with a side of melancholy. Tugging at the dial isn’t working, thinking about your love of food and trying to lighten the mood isn’t working – Arbie kicks the blanket from her feet and then quickly shuffles her toes back beneath it – writing in third person isn’t working, fear of toe snatching monsters too strong.
Ah? Cat rattling door handle while meowing the word hello “hurrrro?” Working… creepy but hilarious…
Not yet, Dodger, we’re set to sleep for another hour!
Cat does not care, door handle is rattling more profusely. Is cat actually murderer wanting to put us in boxes? “HURRRROOOO?”
No. Cat is convinced he is hungry despite us always putting night biscuits down for them. Sudden realization – this hurro bad behaviour is our fault. Will endure door handle shaking and desperate “give better tasty taste food” hurros as punishment.
Actually, I’m up in an hour anyway and I always prefer making morning drinks before the sun rises. It feels quieter and more peaceful, settles my nightowl soul a little to prepare for the day ahead.
I hope I write something today. Fiction has felt so weighted down and writing it numb and bland. Ideas are just ideas until we put in the hard work and I so desperately want to and I will. I just feel like something is missing and has been ever since I jumped before being ready to walk… abort abort! Blog topic too heavy and stomach turning to address with such little sleep and life in words. I’ll leave this here. Go to make a cup of tea with milk and sugar and trick my brain into believing I accomplished something by writing this so early, when arguably I wrote it so late.
I hope you all have a wonderful day ahead of you, full of little things that remind you who you are, why you’re awesome and help you sleep easy at night.
Okay, Arbie. Remove fingers from phone… now you’re just getting weird.
Note: The fan was never actually on. Either I imagined it all, or there was shadow monster on the ceiling and I could have died. Died I tell you! Or I was just ridiculously tired and a bit dizzy! Either way, weird.
Also note: title means nothing. It was just the first thing to come to mind.