The Hardest Thing To Do Is Sleep

Night beckons.

You lay down on your bed, constantly tossing your pillow and bolster. You get up and get back down. You get up and get back down. You repeat the motion hoping that this will lull you.

You get up. Your body reasons with you. Maybe it’s the heat. It is the El Nino season after all. Perhaps it’s the humidity. It has been stuffy lately. Or maybe it’s the haze to blame. It is clogging up your breathing space. You can hardly breathe in your cold comfort.

Your mind, however, reminds you why you have to stay awake. Fear is keeping you awake. Every time you close your eyes, it gets dark. You can see what lies in front of you. Every light you touch turns dark.

As a child, you were fascinated by the tale of your Prophet’s out-of-human experience. How his soul traveled to a faraway land. You were amazed by his gift. He was after all, a human.

You tell someone about what you see. Your father. Your friend. Your colleague. But it’s only a dream. Only a nightmare, they say. But how can a dream be so vivid, appearing to you in high definition, it’s sound in Dolby surround? How can a nightmare recur itself, replaying the same Act and Scene every night? This has become your burden to bear.

You turn to me and you start to write, “The hardest thing to do is sleep.”