Insomnia is a beast. It's what makes me lay awake nights, looking at the ceiling, thinking about nonsense. I'm not worrying, but just letting a Rolodex of junk run through my head. It's what's driving this writing right now. I look at my clock and it says 3:51 AM.
It usually begins around 3:30AM and goes until about 6. Sometimes I get up and sometimes I just lie there, checking the time light on the ceiling, bleary and wrecked until I finally go to sleep again, hours later. Even after mother started into her dementia, she told me she would wake up and listen to Art Bell's "Coast to Coast" on KSL on a little plug-in radio earpiece she'd place under her pillow so she wouldn't disturb Dad. I wonder now what she thought about telepathy, astral projection and the extra-terrestrials Art would love to talk about. Too bad she's not here to ask about it. That was the last Mother's Day gift I gave her: a replacement earpiece because her other one broke.
If I'm smart, I grab my Ipod and listen to books on tape. I can tell when they've worked when I start losing the story and know I'm drifting back off to sleep. I turn off the book and usually fall asleep. That's really what I ought to be doing right now, but, oh well. Who's thinking clearly at this point.