I love sleep.
It doesn’t always love me.
Which is disappointing, cause I’m pretty sure given the proper coaching, I could become a World Champion Sleeper. Seriously. The downside is I’d have to wear earplugs cause I’m a light sleeper. If the cat farts, I wake up.
Besides sleeping for your health, I love to sleep because my dreams are usually AWESOME. Yes, I dream in color. I dream a lot about animals. Bears are the most frequent animal in my dreams. All kinds. My dreams are usually crazy and involve lots of running and searching for things.
I love my dreams.
When I get a cold I can’t wait to go to bed just so I can take NyQuil. OMG if you think my dreams are good normally…..NyQuil send them to the tenth power. Amazing. The colors, the details….phenomenal. Which makes me think if I would ever try pot…..I can only imagine what my reaction would be…..probably a blubbering mess….which we don’t need to experience. Thank you.
Last night I was having trouble sleeping as my mind was too busy talking to itself about work and life and Florida and art and the books I’m reading and work and the new Despicable Me movie coming out and work and so on. After about 30 minutes I got up and took an OTC sleeping pill. Actually, I take 1/4 of a pill because if I do any more I can’t get up in the morning. This is literally the generic pill from Costco and it kicks my ass. If I take 1/2 to a whole one I can’t function at all the next day. Period. This must be what bears take to hibernate all winter…..
At some point in the middle of the night I hear my child, Liggy….chattering. The best way for me to describe Liggy chattering is to say: Imagine a cat with Tourettes. Short little bursts of Me. Yeo. Me. Ow. Mur. Ph. Ye. Ye. Wer. Me.
A visual of the Liggy. She’s is a dog trapped in a cat’s body. She weighs 18 pounds and has an enormous body and a tiny little head. Her tail is a giant feather boa of a thing. She thinks she’s a Marilyn Monroe the way she whips that thing around sometimes.
So she’s chattering at the “whip it stick.” Which is one of those cat toys that has the long stick with a feather on a string at the end. Apparently, she and the stick have a love / hate relationship that can only be discussed in the middle of the night.
The routine always goes:
Eventually she chatters enough at the stick that she wakes me up.
I listen to her conversation to verify it’s a Whip It chat and nothing more.
I call out to her and tell her it’s okay, come to bed.
She gives the stick one last, MURP.
Then she comes running into the bedroom and jumps on the bed.
Sometimes she gets under the covers and sometimes not. (Guess it depends on her conversation with the stick.)
So the other night she was howling at the stick. Really giving it the what for. Damn that stick. The nerve! Apparently, as I saw in the morning, she was trying to get it into the bedroom and it got caught up and therefore couldn’t be dragged into the dark cave with the rest of us. Liggy read that stick the riot act. Up one side and down the other. Good job, you tell that stick.
So going back to last night……
I have my 1/4 of a OTC sleeping pill and am off to happy dream land.
Mrp. Ye. Yew. Me. Ow. Meow. Merp.
I wake up and realize it’s the whip it stick again. I tell Liggy that it’s okay to come to bed. I try the tsk-tsk-tsk sound. Nothing. I reassure her it’s okay to come to bed. Nothing. Just a few little Merp Merps.
Then all hell breaks loose.
I can hear her pitching a full on fit about something. Really telling something off. Then I hear her running. The whole time she’s yelling at something.
At this point I know one of three things have happened, I leap up out of bed and start calling her:
“Liggy, come here. It’s okay. What’s wrong? You’re okay. Come here.”
I can hear her running at me while Merping and Yewling.
Something is wrong and I’m thinking great…..either……she’s chasing a roach, which the thought leaves me lightheaded, she’s being chased by a lizard, which makes me throw up a little or she’s got something stuck to her butt.
Since she’s a big girl with long hair, it happens. Sometimes the hiney-monster comes and visits. Once a year tends to be the visit cycle. The first time it happened I nearly peed myself laughing so hard. She had swallowed some string and when she went to poop a clump got stuck and all the string didn’t come out so she tore through the house with this piece of poop attached to the string, flying from side to side hitting her. OMG. It was hysterical for the humans. Liggy, however, ended up in therapy for the next two years.
So you can imagine my anxiety when she’s carrying on about something, running at me and I’m trying to get to the light.
Finally I throw the bedroom light on and she’s standing at the foot of the bed looking at me.
Blink. Blink. Merp. Blink. Erp.
I ask her what the hell is going on. I pat her down like she’s a felon and she’s fine. I don’t see anything chasing her or being chased (thank you God) and then I turn my head to the bedroom door.
She was so proud of herself.
I looked at her, shook my head, turned off the light and climbed back into bed.
Liggy, enough, it’s bed time. You did a good job, time for bed.
What was all the commotion about? She was over the moon delighted with herself because she finally managed to get the damn whip it stick into the bedroom.
OMG Liggy it’s 1:20AM. Step away from the whip it stick.