Sleepless Eternity

Cailin

Sometimes I can't sleep. Sometimes I can't eat. Sometimes I can't calm down. Sometimes I can't stop thinking. These times are usually the times when I'm awake in my room, laying on my floor in front of my window submerged in the heat of my blankets. All of my body is under blankets and sweaty except for my head, poking out and looking at the stars if there are any. I like to think. I enjoy thinking about the wonders of life. How we ended up here, if there is an after life. Each night I think of something different. I am not going to say that these things I think about bring peace to my mind. I am not going to say that because thats a bold face lie. They actually bring me much frustration, anxiety, and sometimes panic attacks. So no, my thoughts are not peaceful. They drive me towards being mentally insane. But I am satisfied by my thoughts. I cannot explain why, but in some way, shape, or form I am utterly satisfied by my thoughts. It's just how I am

I have never doubted that there are people like me. People who stay up all night almost every night. People who are partial insomniacs. Each night that I am awake by my window, I see a man. An elderly man. I see him walking almost every night. I should really say I see him every morning because when I see him it is always around 2 or 3 in the morning. He doesn't disturb me or the rest of the neighborhood. He is quiet, and he just walks. Every single night. I just assume that he is like me. Unable to sleep and constantly thinks about random things all night. He simply cannot calm down his thoughts so he takes walks, and that is completely fine. Either that or he is a hard core sleep walker.

After about 3 months of seeing this man at the early hours of each morning, (yes, 3 months straight of staying up all night almost every night), I began to take walks just like him. One time I was walking and thinking, like always, and I saw him walking on the opposite side of the side walk. I turned to him and I thought I made eye contact, but when I waved his head remained looking forward. Each time I saw him he was always on the opposite side of the street, walking the opposite way. I eventually just started to think he was a sleep walker, so I didn't try to talk to him. This continued for a couple of weeks, until he finally spoke.

"So, you too, huh?" I was puzzled, and didn't expect him to talk to me because he never had before. "Huh?" I had a second thought "Oh, yeah, just can't sleep." He nodded. "It's not a bad thing." He must have seen how confused I looked because then he said, "Thinking about life. Taking walks." I knew that already "Yeah, it brings me satisfaction I guess..." He crossed the street, and we began talking. Eventually our talk led into his next words. "I am 83 years old and I have not been able to get a full night of sleep in 65 years." He said to me. "So you basically haven't slept in 65 years?" I was shocked. "Of course Iv'e slept. But never at night. And never for a long period of time, only an hour at the most per day."

His name is Ralph, and were best friends by night. He was someone I could speak out my thoughts to, and he would say his thoughts back to me. He understood because he was so old and he had been through life already. I am honestly not sure how long we did this for. Over a year for sure, we had been talking in the earliest hours of the morning. We would walk until sun broke, and then we would go about our days. Although, I never really saw him during the days. Not once. I was always at school, and then to work 4 times a week, but then I would come home and not see him. I am not even sure where he lived. I had lived in the same house since I was born, and I had never seen Ralph. Ever. Maybe it was around the corner, down the street, a couple blocks. I never asked him.

One day my mom caught me leaving the house at a little after 2 in the morning. That was the moment I explained to her why I couldn't sleep, and she told me she had trouble when she was young. I wasn't the only one, as I had learned from Ralph. I told her about Ralph, and she had never met nor seen him ever. After an hour of explaining to her and crying to her about why I couldn't sleep, I took her out on a walk with me, so she would see and try to understand how peaceful it really was. She was tired, but she went with me anyways. I saw Ralph, and I waved to him. "Who did you wave to?" my mom asked. "Ralph, the man I told you about." She looked over to where Ralph was. "I don't see him...maybe he turned around and walked the other way." I turned quickly. No Ralph. I walked across the street, leaving my mom behind, and I looked down the side walk. I saw him at the very end of the street. I motioned for my mom to come near, and we began to walk towards him. "Ralph, this is my mom."He didn't respond My mom tried to say something. "Honey, there's nothing th-." I shook my hand at her to be quiet. I was about 10 feet away from him. As soon as I got close enough to touch him, he wasn't there anymore. I turned the corner and saw him again. But when I got close with my mom, the same thing happened. I told my mom to stay put, and I walked towards him again. This time he didn't disappear, and I was horrified. "I must go now." I looked at him and almost starting crying as I saw him vanish into the fog of the early morning.

My mom and I went back home only to make me find out that there was no Ralph. I went to see a doctor who specializes in insomnia and other sleeping disabilities. The doctor explained to me after several tests that I did not have insomnia. In fact, nothing was wrong with my sleeping. If I had ever tried to fall asleep, I would have been able to sleep. The thought that I couldn't was all in my head and never really was a reality. Ralph was a figure in my imagination the entire time. I had been imagining him because of my loneliness at night and my yearning for someone who understood me. All those nights I had been walking, talking to myself like a zany.

I sleep now.

Not like I should, but I still have those night where I will lay awake and stare at the stars, and sometimes I will take myself on walks to find my satisfaction. I still wonder how on earth I imagined that Ralph was a real person. He looked so real, and said things that were so real. I still don't know why I imagined Ralph, out of all the people in the world. Who was he? Where did he come from? Did he ever live on the earth? Am I the reincarnated version of him?

I guess I'll never know...but maybe that can be one of my thoughts on my next sleepless night.