my sleeping disorder

one of my earliest memories is waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of my mother coughing. not the light, dry coughs that accompany the changing of the seasons and not the frantic coughs of fluid going down the "wrong pipes". these were body wrenching coughs that came from the deeply hidden, black places in my mothers body. black and bloody these coughs would leave my mother shuddering for days and desperately gasping for air between outbursts. in the tiny, pink room next door i would pull my blankets firmly over my head and wait anxiously for the sounds to stop.

there was a screaming face etched in the wood grain of my closet door. nobody else could see it. i couldn't stop seeing it. always watching me and waiting for the right moment to push itself out of its two dimensional world and pull me in.

there was a trap door hidden under my cotton candy carpeting and beyond that, short, nasty creatures with yellow teeth and cancerous breathe. my father told me many times that there was nothing beneath my carpeting but he didn't really know. after all, i had dreamed about that trap door. repeatedly.

just before morning a light would appear in the corner of my room. it was a small light but bright. it would zoom quickly up to the ceiling and then start zooming maniacally around the room in tight, quick circles. i never knew what it was. it just came and went every night and left me, scared and unsatisfied.

these are things that i heard and saw when i should have been sleeping. one hand beneath my chubby cherub cheek, the thumb of my other hand held tightly in my mouth.

this is why i haven't had a decent nights sleep in 25 years.