Sweet Dreams

There may be a few of us who cannot sleep at night and sometimes find ourselves prowling around the house like barn cats with secret business. You lie there for a while, staring into the dark, solving absolutely none of life’s problems, and finally decide that perhaps a cup of tea and a piece of toast will restore order to the universe.

The trouble is, the moment you try to be quiet, every object in the house joins a marching band. You reach for your sweater on the night table, and the buttons rattle against the drawer like loose dice in a casino cup. You slip into your slippers and one of them snaps on your heel with the confidence of a mousetrap. You begin the slow, careful walk to the kitchen, and of course one of the floorboards creaks.

At last, you reach the toaster. Naturally, there is a bag of cheezies in front of it, because the household has apparently set up a snack-based security system. You push the bag aside and the thick cellophane lets out a thunderous crinkle. You stand still for a second restoring silence. You reach for the toaster which has springs you have never heard in daylight, but at 3:17 a.m. it sounds like someone opening the gates of an old castle. You stand guard, waiting for the toast to pop so you can catch the handle and prevent the usual launch sequence. You are focused and still, the toaster manages a squeaky metallic “sproing” that echoes through the kitchen like a tiny knight in shining armor!

Then comes the cup. You open the cupboard with the care of a jewel thief, slide one mug out, and immediately clink it against its neighbor. O boy! You reach into the pantry for a tea bag. If it is in the little container, the lid pops off like a corked bottle. If it is in the cardboard box, the box scrapes and sighs as if filing a complaint. At this point, you pause and wonder, “Now who’s awake?”

You decide to sit down. Being considerate, you lift the chair instead of dragging it. Very noble. Then one chair leg bumps the floor anyway, because furniture has a sense of humor and it is not kind. Your computer is on the table, but if you turn it on, it will play its cheerful little startup music as if announcing, “Good morning, everyone! She’s awake!”

So you leave the computer alone and reach for the TV remote. You lower the volume to number one; but number one is not quiet enough. You give up and reach for the newspaper instead.

Newspapers are quiet all day long, but at night they become percussion instruments. Separating one page from another requires your thumb and index finger to rub the corner repeatedly, producing an alarming papery whisper that somehow sounds like busy mice rearranging their parlor.

Then, from somewhere in the night, comes a sneeze. Not a polite little “ah-choo”. This is a full-on, chest-deep, windows-rattling WAT-CHOO! Yes, that was me! Outside, the rooster takes this as official confirmation that morning has begun and lets loose with a crow. Excellent. Now you have not only failed to be quiet, you have apparently notified the livestock.

Of course, the whole purpose of the TV or newspaper is to help you get drowsy again. And it works beautifully. Soon you are nodding off at the table, one hand on the toast, looking like a very tired security guard at a bakery.

So you decide to go back to bed. You set down the newspaper, which crinkles like it has breaking news! You shuffle down the hall, turn off the light, and somehow knock your knuckles against the switch plate. Good grief. Even your hand has joined the band.

Finally, you ease yourself back into bed as quietly as a person can while being betrayed by blankets, pillows, joints, and gravity. Suddenly the dog barks at a deer wandering across the yard. I smile, “and I was worried about a few little sounds”

And then, at last, it works. Sweet dreams. See you in the morning!