Snoozing Checklist

No dreams with Hitler in last night, nor yet the night before. Hopefully, I really have seen the end of him, this time. There's something vaguely embarrassing about having bad dreams about Nazis, a bit like the feeling you'd get if someone walked in on you having a wank. No, not quite like that--more like if you were caught inspecting a particularly grisly splat of roadkill, or slowing down on your way past a car accident. I'm not one of those people who's fascinated by the Nazis, and knows all about Auschwitz, and so forth. Indeed, I deliberately avoid knowing that sort of thing. And Hitler, I know as little as possible about him, and all. It's difficult not to know much, of course. Everyone's got at least one grandfather or great-uncle who fought the Nazis, or was a Nazi, or got persecuted by the Nazis. More than half a century later, you can still look over your shoulder and see them, goosestepping by with their right arms up.

I'm not interested in them, though. I don't like them, and I don't like Hitler. If, gazing back on the twentieth century, I come face to face with the nineteen-forties, I only want to see that old photo of my father and his dog, not some lunatic with a silly moustache terrorizing Europe. Dreaming about Hitler is worse than dreaming about an ordinary monster. I'd rather be eaten by a slavering werewolf than badmouthed by der Führer. Just having him in my thoughts, even unconscious ones, is like a stain on my conscience. It fills me with disgust.

Anyway, enough of him. That was all I wanted to say about Hitler. I hadn't quite expressed my horror at his presence in my skull before, I don't think--that was all.

Now, because I am obsessed with making lists, I'm going to make one that's vaguely related to dreaming: a list of tricks I use to get to sleep. Being able to fall asleep easily is important for me, because sleep is often the only way to get away from physical discomfort. I have this down to a science.

Television: Ah, television--my first line of defense against insomnia! All I have to do is lie on the couch with my coat draped over me and click on the idiot box, and within half an hour, I'm dead to the world. This method is quite reliable, but has one major drawback: often, I'll still be listening to the voices on the TV well after I've drifted off, and they'll influence my dreams. This is usually harmless, but the TV has been responsible for at least one dream where I was murdered by Nazis. I have learned not to have the History Channel (or any of the movie channels) on when I'm going to sleep.

Books: Books are a blessing and a curse. I can't lie still and watch television if I am feeling particularly unwell--I can't concentrate on the shows, and I start to think about how much pain I'm in instead. This is not helpful at all. A book has a much better chance of sucking me in than the TV does. However, once sucked in, I may just stay that way all night, and never get any sleep at all.

Computer Games: At a certain point, I can no longer concentrate on books, and require something more interactive. Playing computer games sounds like a terrible way to doze off, since they demand a lot of attention, but that's precisely why it works. I can't get tired enough to sleep as long as I'm in a state of panic over my inability to breathe properly. Once my brain is no longer occupied with Oh, no, I'm going to die--has it been like this before? Do I recognize this feeling? How long does it take to pass? What's that strange feeling across my collarbones--is that related?--once my brain's no longer occupied with that, I can relax, let my eyelids get heavy, and eventually go to bed.

Music: If computer games don't work, I have to resort to odd little mind tricks, most of which involve concentrating single-mindedly on one thing only, thus driving out any other thought. The first one I try is reciting lyrics in my head, being careful to remember every word correctly, and every note as well. (Songs from operas are perfect for this, because I have to think about the whole orchestra, not just the singers, and it uses up all my brainpower.)

The whispery unfolding of a sparrow's wing: Sometimes, music is just too much. I can't even get started, because my brain is already too confused by worry. Then, I have to try something a little simpler: I repeat one phrase over and over again in my head, while visualizing its meaning. I always use the same phrase--"the whispery unfolding of a sparrow's wing". I think about the way the feathers move as the bird prepares for flight, and the sound it makes. I imagine the same thing over and over and over again till I'm bored out of my mind and ready to go to sleep.

Abort? Retry? Ignore? Fail? If I can't even wrap my head around a simple wing-movement, repeated ad infinitum, this nerdy little mantra is my last resort. I imagine the words flashing by forever on a dusty old computer screen.

(On DOS-based systems, when there was an error reading a disk, you'd get a message reading

"Error reading drive A:
Abort? Retry? Ignore? Fail?"

I used to despise that message, since it tended to mean the computer game I'd just bought wasn't bloody working, but now I like it. It's comforting, for some reason beyond even my ken.)

And if all else fails: Promethazine hydrochloride saves the day! I try to avoid using sleeping pills as much as possible, however--I don't want to become dependent on them. Furthermore, they give me weird dreams (weird even by my standards).