Sleep

The pitter-patter on the tin roof was my melody for tonight. The rhymic pounding enticed me to sleep, but in a sleepless world, the embrace of rest would never come.

Visionaries thought it'd be more productive to eliminate sleep. A third of an average human's life is spent asleep. Could you believe the advancements we could make if we were able to harness sleep to become more efficient? I remember when the study was in its fledgling stages, advertised as a way to expand your productivity and make more money while you rest.

I guess it was not a surprise to anyone when it became the norm and expectation for all workplaces.

Eliminating nightmares for mundane dreams of work seemed like a fine trade-off. If only it were that simple.

Everything began to fall apart shortly after its implementation. Rushes in scientific advancement failed to consider the brain as a chaotic variable. One night everyone went to sleep. The next morning was chaos- bulls running amok in New York City, violent tornadoes tearing apart the midwest, and clowns were waiting around every corner.

People began to speculate that it was because there was no outlet for the brain to rest. No line existed between what was real and fake, thus fracturing the fine line between what was the "reality" of working and what was a fear. I couldn't understand it, I was just a product of their creations. For days on end, I woke up to the locust I dreamed about swarming my room. It wasn't until they eliminated sleep entirely that I found respite.

Now, we were nothing more than listless humans. We "sleep" by simply staying still, staring into the endless abyss that is life. I crave nightmares and darkness- but I will never find it. I feel like a phone attached to a wall, simply charging up to be used and unappreciated.

So I stare at the ceiling, listless, yearning, for something.

By this point in my life, I have memorized every crack in the paint. Each day I watch the fractures creep forward and spread like a plague. Soon, enough paint would be cleaved, leaving small leaves of paint dangling for their life.

I reached up with my finger and painted along the rifts in long fluid strokes. The juxtaposition of my movements to the jagged edges left me feeling unnerved.

I wanted the darkness- and now I craved it.

Rumors, however, have rekindled hope in me.

An epidemic of "sleep drugs" was sweeping across the news. People were falling into comas for months at a time, apparently waking up agitated and hostile. So much so that many of them were "humanely euthanized" according to the news outlets.

I needed that drug.

It started as a small, occasional thought that would flit across my mind. But as the months dragged on that small hope turned into a raging, all-consuming inferno.

For the first time in years, I was leaving my house for a reason other than food. Work had become completely remote and I became tied to the four walls of my apartment. Yet, just a mere few blocks from me at the abandoned parking garage an underground group of Sleepers were actively partaking in the creation and distribution of DroweZe. This particular strain of drugs was notorious for having the worst trip. I could see all the propaganda against DroweZe usage flitting across my mind as the bouncer opened the door to the depths of the garage.

What I expected to be a seedy, smokey, and dank room was actually quite luxurious. Billowing drapes lined each bed, the ones closed indicating the space was already in use. A woman, very average-looking, grabbed my attention and pulled me towards a small office off the side. She sat me down and greeted me with a warm smile. It was weird interacting with people again. I stared at my hands as she began to read off a list of rules and regulations of the club.

Her voice droned on, but I didn't care to listen. The prospect of feeling the cold embrace of sleep was enough to have me hand her the wad of cash and sign away my life.

I had been waiting years for this moment to arrive.

She led me to one of the beds and positioned me in the center before drawing the curtains. I greedily grabbed the mask as I heard a voice in my head drone on with a countdown. A scent of raspberry and rum blasted my nostrils, before years of dreamless nights came crawling back.

I awoke to the gentle sloshing of water. I could hear it, but my eyes felt too heavy to open. I spread my fingers out, finding patches of soft grass. It must have been sunny- my limbs and face felt warm.

Eventually, I was able to open my eyes. The sun burned into them, but I relished the searing brightness. I felt more alive than I had in decades. Sitting up, I was faced with the open expanse of a large lake. The light glinted off its surface, bouncing around in the small waves that rippled across.

Instinctively, I got up and walked towards the water. I wiggled my toes on the sandy bank as small waves rolled across them. The cool water felt comforting. It reminded me of the family vacation beach trips we used to take when I was younger. Getting into the water felt nostalgic, and I never wanted to leave.

I began floating on my back while staring up at the crystal sky. Extending my arms, they found purchase on a nearby log and I gripped it. I fell into an endless cycle. I would wake up, swim, enjoy life, and fall back asleep. I didn't know how long DroweZe was lasting, but I didn't care. Days, weeks, and, I think, even months passed in my realm.

The log became my crutch and my center for reality. I would return to it daily, clinging to the slippery trunk as it remained a permanent fixture in the reservoir. It was the husk of a Hyphaene thebaica, or Doom Palm. A weird sight in the deciduous herbage of my realm.

I once again made my way towards it, hooking my arm around it as if it were a long-time friend. I yearned to float with it. It was the only friend in my abyss. I was lulled to sleep by the gentle undulation of the water, kept in place by the embrace of my arboreal companion.

A loud crack shattered my slumber. I could hear a plethora of muted voices screaming. Sirens were shrieking through the fog that seemed to have overtaken my realm. I grasped my hands tighter, only to find that instead of the embrace of the tree was replaced with a thick, large staff.

It was stained a sickly, sanguinary color.

I tried to recenter my brain. I needed to sleep. I wanted this to change. I wanted my comfort.

The voices from before began drawing nearer and nearer. Some of them were shouting my name, others calling me a murderer. Now a melody of canine yelps was heard as the rustling continued to approach.

I jumped to my feet, holding the staff out in front of me as lights began to surround me. I took a step back, then another, then another as all sorts of unfamiliar faces pincered me. Their lights seemed so bright despite the thick fog. Another step back and I felt water hit my heels. I briefly glanced backward and noticed the lake from my realm was rustling and angry. The water was bitterly cold, feeling like a thousand needles every time it grazed my feet.

The shouting escalated as I took a step back, then another, before I was finally knee-deep in the icy liquid. A shot rang out, a hissing sound whirring somewhere above my head. Angrily, the water rose, its waves increasing in magnitude as if to protect me. The people lined the shore this time, forming a wall of strangers destined to remove me from my safe haven. As the water swelled around me, I felt the familiar touch of a friend linger in its icy exterior. I wanted to embrace it, I wanted to be free of these cursed people.

I wanted to be asleep.

With the last bit of my energy, I turned and jumped headfirst into the pool. As my head fell beneath the waves, I saw the delineation of my friend reaching out its hand to me. Extending my arm, I grasped at their outstretched hand. I pulled myself close finding respite amongst its arms. I inhaled a sigh of relief, the cold initially burning my chest before I felt light and airy.

Once again, I fell asleep.