Daydream Nation

I’ve suffered from insomnia on and off for the last five years. I think it first started when I gave up smoking weed in my second year of university, which unsurprisingly came as a bit of shock to the system after four years of habitual consumption. Even if I had bunned like five spliffs over the course of the day, I still considered a bedtime bifta necessary to get in the 12 hours sleep that my studies required. Anyways, after years of enjoying daily comatose, it seemed my dozing dollars had been all but used up as I started to spend about six fun-filled hours a night rolling from one side of the bed to another in hopeless abandon. This has now become the norm, and I can have up to two weeks at a time surviving on three hours (at most) sleep a night. For those of you who have never had to put up with this sort of shit, I can assure you that it’s not much of a crack. Your days are made up of a series of moments, each one a freeze frame of weirdness that travels across your watering eyes like an old Tom and Jerry movie reel soaked in sepia tone. At times unbearable, but for the most part just fucking grinding. Don’t get me wrong, there are sections of the day one could describe as ecstatic, where you find yourself uncontrollably laughing at the strangest things, much to the bewilderment of everyone around you. But, during these bouts of sleeplessness, these split seconds of delirium are mostly eclipsed by a suspicion that if you don’t get to sleep in the next ten minutes then your mind may chainsaw its way out of your skull in a vain bid for freedom.

 

According to the experts (emedicine.com) my condition is seen as Short-term Insomnia, where the symptoms last between one and three weeks. The bracket above me are said to be suffering from Chronic Insomnia, where the symptoms last over a month. You end up trying loads of stuff to sort it out, and some of it does help for a short period and you usually convince yourself that you’ve found the cure. This is usually short lived though as soon you find yourself once again laid on your side staring at that familiarly blinding LED on your mouse well into the next day. I’ve got to admit I’ve never read a book on how to combat the symptoms, as I think that if you convince yourself that you’ve got a problem bad enough to read a book on how to solve the problem then you’re fucked anyway. But I just stumbled across a news article about a new book called Spent! I thought that the fact that it had made the front page of the Guardian website would lend the title some sort of credibility, but alas it is just another Doctor Nick Riveira offering commonsensical advice such as “listen to relaxing music”. It’s such a joke that this chump is getting the bucks for handing out such lacklustre pearls of wisdom. I should be getting them. I know stuff. I            know loads of stuff. Surely anyone can see what should keep you awake, or what will effect how you sleep, but in the spirit of pointing out the blindingly fucking obvious, I’ve decided to jot down a couple of paragraphs to set you on your way to an assured nights rest.

 

Stress – The main contributor to sleep deprivation. To alleviate this burden, just quit your job. Capitalism is going down the pan anyhow, so by opting out now you save yourself a few months of angst.

 

Women – The ball ache of ball aches. You’re there racking your brains of the next way to spice up the relationship, just to keep them interested. this causes you hours of tossing and turning. Sever all ties. There is enough bosh material on tinterweb to keep you going till you’re old and grey anyhow. Wanking helps you sleep too.

 

Friends – Sure they’re fun and we all think we need them, but essentially they’re a distraction. Think about how much more time you’ll have in bed once they’re out of your life. No more phonecalls or beeping Blackberrys. It’ll be pure unadulterated silence for you from now on.

 

A brain - If these other things don’t work then sell everything you own and buy a shotgun, load the cartridges, place the barrels carefully in your lips, and pull the trigger. You’ll sleep sound now. You’re fucking dead.