Sweet Dreams?

SWEET DREAMS?

“Please,” I said. “You have to be tired. Just a short sleep. Maybe even a nap.”

No response.

“Okay,” I said, again, “I didn’t want to have to scare you, but there are ramifications if you don’t get some sleep. It’s a big deal!” I took in a deep breath, and read from my phone. “Chronic sleep deprivation can lead to high blood pressure, diabetes, heart attack, heart failure, or stroke. Those are just the big ones! There’s also obesity, depression, impairment in immunity, and lower sex drive — although I don’t think that last one applies to you.”

“Thbptttttttt!”

I looked down at Rupert, my nephew, who was happily looking at me from his crib.

“Nice raspberry, buddy,” I said.

He smiled up at me. I smiled back.

I loved my nephew. How could I not? Those big blue eyes. The curly brown hair. His infectious laugh. The horns sticking out of his head, because he was the spawn of Satan. JK. No horns. But, right then, right at that place in time, I wouldn’t have been too surprised to see them sprouting. The Devil doesn’t sleep, does he?

“Your brain is young,” I reasoned with him. “You’re what, nine months?”  

“Thbptttttttt!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” I looked back at my phone. “If you don’t get enough sleep, your memory is impaired. And right now you're memory’s pretty limited. Why chance it, buddy? You don’t want to eff up your memory, do you? You’re too young. You need to remember everything, Rupert. It’s important.”

“Thbptttttttt!”

“Okay,” I said, looking down at the precious little monster.  “Fine. But when you don’t get into the college of your choice, I’m gonna be reminding you why.” I walked away from the crib. “I’m turning the light off, now, Rupert-My-Man. And I don’t want to hear anything more from you.”

I turned the light off, and shut the door. I didn’t walk away, but listened at the door.

“Thbptttttttt!”

What a guy,  I though, smiling.  

I crept quietly away from Rupert’s room, down the stairs, and into the family room. The baby monitor was right beside the couch, and I turned it on. I watched Rupert on the screen. He wasn’t the least bit upset about being in his crib, but he wasn’t sleepy either. The night-vision camera allowed me to watch him play with his toes, and blow raspberries, and babble to himself. He grabbed his blankie, put his thumb in his mouth, and lay on his back in his crib, looking at the projected star night sky on his ceiling. I hoped that it was soothing enough to help him fall asleep. Soon. He had to be exhausted. He’d had less sleep than me, and I was bagged!

I dared to look away, picking up the book that I was reading. But I was distracted, and ended up reading the same page three times because I was so bloody tired. Every time I snuck a look at the camera he was doing exactly the same thing — not sleeping.

I sighed, watching him play with his feet. How interesting could one set of toes be? Answer — infinitesimally interesting, if Rupert’s fascination with his falanges was any indication. I picked up my phone and logged on to Twitter. Between doom-scrolling and watching the baby monitor, one hour, two hours, three hours passed. It was now eleven o’clock, and Rupert was still just hanging out in his crib, not crying (thank goodness), but not sleeping, either.

What was it with this kid? Why wasn’t he sleeping?

Had I accidentally put No-Doze in his bottle? I was pretty sure that was a hard no, but I was tired, so could I actually be sure? Maybe whole milk was actually a stimulant for babies. Who knew?

Every child I had ever looked after — I was the oldest of five, so I had done my share of babysitting — cried, fussed, and finally gave in to sleep. Not Rupert. No, he seemed to be quite content to just hang out in the dark.

Sigh.

And, because Rupert wasn’t sleeping, that meant that I wasn’t sleeping. It wasn’t like it was a rule or anything, but I didn't like to go to sleep if my charge wasn’t also asleep. As far as I was concerned it was tempting the Fates if I went to sleep before the kiddo. Too many bad things could happen. He could hurt himself while — what? — playing with his toes? Some sort of this little piggy accident? Perhaps not the best example. But I couldn’t take that chance of falling asleep and something bad happening to Rupert because I left him awake and alone. I would force myself to stay awake until he fell asleep.

Unlike Rupert, I loved sleeping. Given the option of sleeping or doing most other things, I always chose sleep. I was that annoying person who could sleep anywhere — planes, trains, automobiles, at the dinner table, in the shower, in front of the television. And I was a world-class napper. Sleep was my happy place, and I wasn’t getting any.

And neither was Rupert. But it didn't seem to bother him. Why did he not sleep? Babies needed between twelve and fifteen hours of sleep a night. As far as I could tell, Rupert hadn’t slept since I had arrived on Monday. And it was Thursday, almost Friday. I’d told Chelsea — Rupert’s mom, and my sister — about him not sleeping, but she didn’t seem too worried — something about the fact that he had never been a sleeper. Now she tells me!

Chelsea was away for some type of specialized training for her job. And because she was raising Rupert on her own, she didn’t have a spouse to fill the void. She had me, Tina. Single Tina, no significant other Tina, apartment dweller Tina, pet-free, Tina.  Perfect choice!

I had agreed because (a) I loved Chelsea. She and I were closest in age, and were extremely close, and (b) I loved Rupert to pieces. He was so different from all the other children I looked after during my babysitting days. He was happy and content, always smiling and laughing. And, apparently, a baby insomniac.  

I looked at the monitor. Rupert had flipped himself over and was doing a really good imitation of cobra pose, from yoga, propped up on his hands, arms straight. He was just looking around his room, enjoying the night.

He’s a vampire! I thought. That’s why he not sleeping. And Chelsea doesn’t know this because his canines haven’t come in yet, I thought nodding to myself.

But I discounted that as I watched him look at his own reflection in the activity centre attached to the side of his crib. Vampires don’t have reflections. Plus the fact that he didn’t explode into flames when he was in the sun. So, not a vampire.

Maybe he has no melatonin, I thought. No sleep hormone.

I looked closely at the monitor. I had no idea what someone with melatonin deficiency would look like. I pulled out my phone, and Googled it.

There were apparently ten thousand symptoms if a person is suffering from decreased melatonin — all quite similar to those for sleep deprivation. Unfortunately, they don’t manifest themselves readily to the naked eye, other than looking tired. Rupert looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Ready to go. Aware and alert. No eye bags, no lethargy, no nodding off. Just a little man, ready to explore his world.

How could that be? Five days and four nights was a long time to go without sleep — for both of us.  

Why wasn’t he tired? 

Go! To! Sleep! I willed him. 

Instead he just laughed at his reflection, and batted the beads on the play station, making them spin around.

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I heard was Rupert talking loudly. I jolted awake, and looked at the monitor. He was standing up, holding on to top rail of his crib, pointing to the floor, where his blankie was laying. I checked my watch — it was just past midnight.

“An-yan-an-yan!”

I wasn’t sure what “an-yan-an-yan” meant, specifically, but I was pretty sure it had something to do with his blankie. I got up and walked upstairs to Rupert’s room. I slowly opened the door and looked in.

When he saw me, a big smile lit up his face. He started jumping up and down holding on to the top bar of the side of his crib.

“Yayayayaya!”

I walked over to the blanket, picked it up, and handed it to him. He took one hand off the crib railing, grabbed the blanket, lost his balance, and promptly plopped down on his bum.

He started to laugh his infectious laugh.  I couldn’t help but smile. He was such a good-natured baby.  

He started babbling at me, sitting there in his crib. I leaned over and laid him on his back, and turned the projected star night sky on again, setting it for one hour. I pulled up the rocking chair closer so I could see him in his crib. I figured I wasn’t going to be able to stay awake too much longer, so at least when I fell asleep, I would be right beside him in case he needed me.

Rupert kept up a steady stream of babbling, cooing, and blowing raspberries. It was actually very soothing — like a white noise machine. A tiny human white noise machine who was still wide awake at midnight. I felt bad, but I was so tired that I didn’t have the energy to baby chat with my nephew. I let my eyes started to slowly slide shut. 

If there are any sleep gods out there, I thought, just before I slid into sleep.  Please help him fall asleep! He needs to sleep! I need to sleep! We both need to sleep.

As I started to doze, I felt a change in the air in the room — not a breeze, exactly but kind of like a shimmering of the air around me. My eyelids flickered opened, and I stood, looking around the room. Rupert had felt it as well — he was looking around the room, a questioning look on his sweet face.  

Then we weren’t alone.

Three figures appeared in front of me. The first, a young man, with wings protruding from his shoulders, dressed in a toga, with bare feet. In his hand was a branch, gently dripping water onto Rupert’s bedroom floor. The second was also in the form of a young man, but he had small wings on the side of his head. He was naked except for a cape and boots, holding a staff with a light glowing from the top. The third figure was different than the first two. First, no wings. Second, he was an old man, wearing a night shirt, cap, and sandals. He was carrying a small sac over his shoulders.

I shut my eyes, rubbed them, then opened them again. They were still there.

“Oh God,” I whispered. “What is the matter with me?”  

“No,” said the naked guy, “not God but gods.”

I must have been hallucinating. I looked over to Rupert. He was sitting up in his crib, clapping his hands, smiling, looking happily in the direction of the apparitions. He seemed to be having the same hallucination as me. Was that a thing?

“Bababab!” he said, kicking his little feet up and down in joy.

I stepped over to the crib, putting my body between Rupert and the three … the three …. what? Vistiors? Spectres? Phantasms?

The first man spoke. “You summoned us, and we have arrived to help you achieve your desire of sleep.”

“Who are you?” I asked incredulously, looking from one to the other.

“I am Hypnos,” he said, “Greek god of sleep.”

Then the naked guy with wings sprouting out of his head spoke up. “I am Somnus, Roman god of sleep.”

“And I am,” said the old man in the night shirt, bowing from the waist, “The Sandman.”

I looked from one to the other to the other, meeting each of their gazes. Then I shut my eyes, clicked my heels three times, and said, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.”

I opened my eyes, and they were still there.

“We have come to help the young one, who has been deserted by sleep,” said Hypnos. “And I bring with me sweet dreams from my son Morpheus.”  

He shook the dripping water in our direction. I could feel the tiny droplets of water landing on my skin. Rupert must have felt the same, as he started to laugh out loud.  

“This water is from the River Lethe, the river of forgetfulness. Its water will help you to forget your worries, and allow you to sleep.”

I suddenly felt less stress. I was having a hard time remembering why I was so worried about our three visitors. Everything seemed so much better. I was so relaxed.

They should bottle this stuff, I thought.

“We are here to help you both find sleep,” said Sonmus, as he gently tapped his staff on the floor.  

The smell of flowers flooded the room — sweet, citrusy smell mixed with the added scent of cherry blossom. Rupert put his nose into the air, and sniffed like a puppy.

Sonmus smiled. “The smell of poppies, the flower of sleep.”

My eyelids felt drawn down.

“You’d better leave,” I said, trying to sound like I was in charge. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I too will help you achieve joyful rest, and allow you to remain in slumber until the sun has risen in the east,” said The Sandman, as he pulled a small handful of sand out of his sack, and blew it towards Rupert and I. It glimmered as it flew through the air, catching the light, gently landing on our faces.

“Hey!” I said, struggling to keep my head from nodding to my chest. “Who’s gonna clean that up?”

Just before I drifted off to sleep, I saw Rupert grab his blankie, stick his thumb in his mouth, and lay down in his crib, his eyes closing. 

Finally, I thought.

I tried to fight the sleep. I couldn’t leave these three very unusual strangers in the house. If I could just stay awake …

*****

I woke up, gently swimming into consciousness. Sunlight was streaming through the window, lighting the bedroom in a rosy glow. I checked my watch — it was after eight in the morning. We had slept through the night.  

Even though I had just spent the night sleeping in a chair, I felt fantastic — refreshed, and full of energy, almost rejuvenated. I looked over at Rupert, who was still sleeping, thumb wedged into his tiny mouth, a smile playing on his lips.

I sat back, remembering last night.  

What was that all about?  

It had seemed so real — so unnaturally real. A shiver run up my spine. I grabbed my phone, and plugged in “hallucinations and sleep deprivation.”

… If sleep deprivation continues long enough, you could start having hallucinations — seeing or hearing things that aren’t really there … Consult your doctor.

“Thank you healthine.com,” I said quietly to my phone.

I thought more about last night. It had seemed so real. I could remember the water dampening my skin, the smell of the flowers filling the room, the sensation of the sand gently landing on my face.  

Had any of that really happened? I looked around. There was nothing to indicate that what I remembered was real. No sand, no water, and the only smell I could discern was Rupert’s need of a diaper change.

This is what doing drugs must be like, I thought, another shiver running down my back. Wow. It was sooooo real.

I hoped that all would be well now that Rupert and I had finally slept. But I wanted to make sure. I made a mental note to call my doctor when the office opened.  

I got out of the chair quietly, intent on sneaking out of the room without waking Rupert. When I looked in his crib, my heart jumped into my mouth.

There, in the far corner, were three tiny vials, each with a cork stopper. They were labelled in what I recognized as Latin. One was labelled “aqua” (water), the second was labelled “papaveribus” (poppies), and the third, “arena” (sand).

There was a note propped up against the tiny glass vials, also written in Latin. 

“Prudenter uti.”

Translated, “Use them wisely.”

It was real.