Sleep Trek

The Restless Frontier of Insomnia

(Captain Kirk voice-over: Star Trek Intro) Sleep: the restless frontier. These are the nocturnal dramas of the soulship Andy. His five-decade mission: to explore strange new modalities, to seek out new hacks and remedies, to boldly describe where every man has been before. (Music swells into the Star Trek theme)

Living Groundhog Day, I repeat this process over 21,000 times. Can you name another frequent, time-consuming imperative for every human on the planet? Oh sure, you can try to trudge onward without sleep for a day or two, but the flesh always demands its payment. So, I approach each night with square eyeballs and waning energy, faintly optimistic that this black hole will be different. What’s that saying about the definition of insanity? Misattributed to Einstein, I might add, according to some quote origin sleuths.

Get into bed, recite some rote prayers, sift through a choice few of the 6000 thought worms*¹, most of which are the same as yesterday. Success! I fall asleep. Fast forward four to five hours. Mr. Bladder rings his alarm.

“Helloooo. Would you mind tapping a kidney or two?”

Reluctantly I imitate my best Walking Dead zombie and placate the bodily function. Now comes the interesting part. Will Brain commence a firing sequence like a photon torpedo preparing to launch or will Melatonin win this first battle of the night?

(Sportscasters in the observation booth) “Well, this looks like it’s going to be close, Bob.” “Yeah you’re right, Frank. I think Mel is in the lead. Oh..no.. what’s this? Brain is coming from behind. He’s going to finish strong and WIN BY A SYNAPSE!” “Just stunning, Bob. Another check in the ‘W’ column for Brain Boy.”

The trickle of thoughts intensifies. I crank the faucet handle, but it breaks off in my hand. I lie drowning in a flood of words, ideas, and expectations. As I gasp for sleep, cognitive chaos gushes into my nose and mouth. I flail for a life preserver — prayer, meditation, mindfulness, visualization, body scan. Lungs filling, I weightlessly descend into the ocean depths of consciousness. The water pressure crushes my head like a soda can.

“Great to be back calling the play by play with you Frank. We’ve seen his hacks work some nights and off he doses to dreamland.” “Yeah but not tonight, Bob. What’s he doing? Oh, it looks like he’s going to try the ‘eyes open’ play. We wish him well.”

All closed lid tricks fail. With little air left in my lungs, I float upright to read and journal. I’ll drain myself with exhaustion and slide off this continental shelf back to sleep. An hour or two later, I return supine on a raft of driftwood.

An ocean of oblivion a sea of suffering a fjord of fatigue. I wash ashore coughing up sand and seaweed.

I stagger to explore a beach of brininess a thoroughfare of thought a den of despair a yard of yawning (sorry) a meadow of metaphors a hill of hibernation.

I emerge to discover a horizon of hope a trust of tranquility a promise of peace a sunrise of slumber a dawn of dreaming a reward of repose.

Arriving on a farm of faith, I drone “Let Go and Let God” ad infinitum. Brain sees an opening like a free-range chicken, a bloodhound on the trail of a possibility, or an American Shorthair cat proud to return with sleep dripping from his jaws. Maybe this biological imperative is more like a wild stallion I name Midnight. As the Brain Whisperer I approach slowly lest I spook him. On a good night, I gently coax Midnight back into the barn for brief bouts of rest. Mel nods approvingly as he heaves another pitchfork of hay.

“There’s only one of two ways this ends, Bob.” “Agreed, Frank. Either he nods off or he is up for the duration.” “Looks like the former this night.” “A stunning conversion! And he’s gonna need his strength for the full season ahead.”

In the morning Brain whistles to the sheep dog, time to corral the thoughts. I stretch achingly as free time disappears. The warp speed transition to my daytime routine accelerates faster than Captain Kirk can say, “Engage.” I persevere until a yawn ambushes my body like a tranquilizer dart. My mind wanders over to my docked soulship and the tribble trepidation growing behind the bay doors that evening. With no escape hatch I trust my Sleep Fleet Academy training to transport me back to inner space for sleepdate 21860.5.

*¹Exploring human mind | Queen’s University Gazette (queensu.ca) Brain meta-state transitions demarcate thoughts across task contexts exposing the mental noise of trait neuroticism | Nature Communications