No. 35 - Sandbag Soliloquies

A play with & on sleep

November 05, 2024

Audio:

Hey everyone,  No. 35 is below. It's a few words on sleep, and the challenges in getting that sleep. I think this is perhaps an odd post for this day, November 5, 2024, election day here in the United States. Have we been able to rest? Are we in the prelude of four years without true rest or will we sleep through it? [Check out the audio tho]

I wanted to drop from wake floor nine to dream floor one, yes, wake floor nine to dream floor one, the base of it all, to sleep. Fall into sleep, yes, sleep, for sure. I had been tugging with sleep. 

What say you, sister?

… She creeps silently into bodies at night, operating three ways depending on earnest praise made. B.E.D. they spells for kids, only slightly aware, bed rhymes with dead. That was her trick. 

I had come in and out of at least three dreams. 

Neither three of which I can remember now. 

Except one.

What say you, sister? 

Me was trying to get a couple of neighbors out of me house. They insisted our son wasn’t eating well. Yes, we had a son in this dream. They had rang the bell, and our son opened the door, and in they came. I politely let them know that we were still sleeping, and they launched into this whole thing about our son, let’s call him Wlimu, that he wasn’t being fed right. I got into their faces then dared them to say another word about my child and his eating habits. Once gone, though, I asked John if Wlimu was watching video games while eating dinner. He did not give a straight answer, saying he ate his chicken and broccoli all of the time. 

But this night, another night.  I think I might have even murmured aloud a few words. And so after waking at some point, John offered these six words to me: 

"Don't try, just let yourself fall.” 

What say you, sister?

However, she keeps us motionless and lifeless, and the pictures floating through our heads are constant. Someone munches popcorn as our dreams stream by. 

At first, I thought his words were a request to fall headfirst, like, but into what? Into sleep, of course! I remember a year or two ago when it was especially hard to just fall asleep. Each time I reached its brink, peering and piercing through layers of exhaustion, I would shake myself back awake, unable to give myself over to the gods of rest. 

What say you, sister? 

She comes to some like clockwork. They lie comatose as she waves her wand, out like the pilot light. She fights with those who like to frolic and play at night, but sister wins at dawn or at two p.m. when they are outside or they are at work! Others, she simply avoids, gathering up her comfy blanket, choosing to reside elsewhere. Night after night, these queer beings spin tales, thoughts, and figures until they catch fever instead of sister. 

This night, I just wanted to go to sleep. It was hot. No, maybe it was cold. I just wanted to go to sleep. Though sleepy as a house cat, and just as restless, I thought his words sounded like something. Don't try; just let yourself fall. 

What say you, sister? 

They renew all living things and give pillows purpose. Makers of crust at the corner of eyes, stainers of saliva at the edge of mouths, sandbag soliloquies.

Was it a poem? Was it a chant I needed to put in rotation? An affirmation? What else, I thought briefly, might I want to fall into? I definitely wanted to fall asleep. 

What say you, sister?

She fills us up with sweet milk, hard to wean from. Wake we do, wake we must. Tossing aside your lovely teat we suckled throughout the night. 

Don't try; just let yourself fall.