Sunday Scribblings: Bed
A Stream of Consciousness, or a Longing for Unconsciousness
I have been struggling with a complicated relationship with my bed. These past month or so, my bed has been witness to more tossing and turning than slumber. It’s 12:06 AM on a Sunday morning, and I have been up since Friday at 10:00 AM. To be completely honest, I’ve had some sleep, but in my mind, two hours does not a night’s sleep make. It’s a nap. I’m starting to develop a slight fear of my bed. So these are thoughts of a conscious woman, longing for unconsciousness. They might make sense, but if they don’t, blame it on the fatigue.
What if my bed retains all the echoes of thoughts floating through my mind, unrelenting in its attempt to keep me alert? If asked, what would it say?
Of fears and insecurities.
Of memories and dreams.
Of rabbit trails on Wikipedia.
Of myths and legends as uncovered by YouTube.
Of lyrics and ditties and melodic earworms.
Of failures and mishaps I long to take back.
Of the interpretation of tears of sadness and tears of joy.
Maybe the lack of sleep makes me sappy, but my closest friends would probably comment that I ooze sappyness. Maybe I’m just tired. But the question now is: when I lay me down to sleep. Will the rest ever come?
Let’s talk about that prayer. Where did that somewhat sad and somewhat creepy prayer come from? Why would any parent teach their children to recite this every night before their kids went to bed?
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my Soul to keep;
If I should die before I 'wake,
I pray the Lord my Soul to take.
“If I should die before I ‘wake?” Really? As an adult plagued by a lot of thoughts and uncertain plans and overthinking failures, it’s a little sad for one to recite this. For a child, though? It’s downright scary. And let’s quickly revisit bedtime stories from Andersen and Grimm. I’m not surprised sleep eludes people when they’re accompanied by images of mermaids turned seafoam and stepsisters that were mutilated.
And somehow, while I’m typing this out, I have Eric Whitacre’s “Sleep” haunting my consciousness. (The song is based on a poem by Charles Anthony Silvrestri.) The lyrics talk about a person who is too mentally stimulated to submit to sleep until the spirits (whoever they are) coax the person to sleep.
The evening hangs beneath the moon
A silver thread on darkened dune
With closing eyes and resting head
I know that sleep is coming soon
Upon my pillow safe in bed
A thousand pictures fill my head
I cannot sleep, my mind's a-flight
And yet my limbs seem made of lead
If there are noises
In the night
A frightening shadow
Flickering light
As I surrender unto sleep
Where clouds of dream
Give second sight
What dreams may come both dark and deep
On flying wings and soaring leap
As I surrender unto sleep (Dark and Deep)
As I surrender unto sleep (Dark and Deep)
As I surrender unto sleep
Sleep
So where does that leave me? I’m tired and exhausted and hoping to God that I might sleep tonight. And then there’s Scripture. What does it mean that the Lord grants sleep to those he loves (Psalm 127:2)? That Jesus calls those who are heavy-ladened and in need of sleep to himself for rest (Matthew 11:28)?
I am left with more questions than answers, and a bit more of an internal turmoil since the lack of sleep does wonders to my mind. But maybe, just maybe. The hope of tonight’s rest may come.
And I’d drift into the land of dreams.
So maybe my bed can once again be a safe place. Rather than the betrayer of my thoughts. A witness of restlessness. Maybe once again sleep can be a friend.
Good night.
July 25, 2020