The Feeling I Can’t Explain

“I can’t sleep.”

It was not the first time I had whispered it into the quiet. But tonight felt different. Not like the usual restlessness from too much coffee or a lingering worry. No, this was something else. Something electric.

And it all started at the town carnival.

Dash had planned a cute date. He had heard about the glow-in-the-dark Ferris wheel and the fairy floss that changed colour when you licked it. He knew I had love that kind of thing. The excitement was contagious. I pulled on my cosiest jumper, tied my hair in pigtails, and followed him into the night.

The carnival was loud and bright and smelled like cinnamon and popcorn. The child in me couldn’t help it; I ran ahead, chasing lights and laughter, while Dash wandered slowly, soaking in the chaos, smiling at me.

That is when I saw her, tucked between the fairy floss stand and the dunk tank. A fortune teller’s tent. Deep forest green fabric, silver and gold stars stitched into the seams, and a sign that read:

Truths Told. Futures Whispered. Here it all unfolds.

I hesitated. Then stepped inside.

She was older than I expected. Not ancient, but timeless, like the wise tree in fairy tales. Her eyes were the kind that had seen things, that knew things instantly, soft and sharp all at once. She didn’t ask my name. Just gestured to the velvet chair across from her.

“Welcome, my child,” she said, like an old familiar, and began shuffling the cards.

“You are not here for answers,” she said, voice like wind through trees. “You are here for confirmation.”

I blinked, looking stunned. “I do not know what that means.”

She smiled. “You will.”

Three cards fell onto the table.

The Empress. The Lovers. The Moon.

She tapped each one gently.

“You are a mother already,” she said. “Even if no child calls you that yet. Your heart knows how to nurture. It’s written in your energy.”

I swallowed hard.

“The Lovers,” she continued, “is not just romance. It’s choice. You are standing at a crossroad with someone, someone who sees you, but hasn’t said it yet. You wonder if it’s real. It is.”

My breath caught.

“And The Moon,” she whispered, “is mystery. Dreams. The things we feel but do not say. You are living in a question right now. But the answer is coming. Soon.”

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.

She gathered the cards, handed me a tiny crystal, and said, “Tonight, you’ll feel it. Not in your mind. In your body. In your heart.”

I left the tent, stuck in thoughts of curiosity. Dash was waiting with coloured sticky fingers and fairy floss stuck to his cheek. He held out a glowing bracelet he had bought for me as a surprise. I loved it.

We rode the Ferris wheel together, cuddled arm in arm, my shoulder nestled in the nook of his neck. I smiled as I looked up at him. His eyes looked down at mine, and in those few seconds of eye contact, something inside me lit up. I was happy. I hoped he was too. And as we slowly turned, soaking in the moment, the stars twinkled above us.

And now,

hours later,

I can’t sleep.

Not because I am scared. Not because I am confused.

Because I feel everything.

My eyes shot open like someone had flipped an electrical switch inside me. I was tired, sure. My body ached for rest. But my mind had other plans. It wanted me awake. It wanted me to feel this.

And what was this?

It was joy. But not the everyday kind, the kind you get from a good meal or a funny meme. This was the kind reserved for Christmas mornings, surprise reunions, or the moment someone says, “I was thinking about you.” It was warm and fuzzy and tickled me from the inside out, like tiny sparklers going off in my chest.

My eyes flickered into the darkness of my room, still cloaked in night. Only two hours had passed since I had curled up under my blanket, plushie tucked into the crook of my elbow, pillow cradling my cheek. Now I lay there, smiling like a fool, feeling like I had just woken from a hundred-year slumber.

I flipped the curtain with my foot. Still dark. Still quiet.

I yawned, but sleep was nowhere near. Instead, my brain started humming a tune:

I can’t sleep, I can’t sleep, I can’t sleep, like the jingle of a really boring late-night show.

Roll left. Roll right. Back to the middle. Legs tucked. Legs stretched. Blanket off. Blanket on.

“Okay!” I sighed, eyes rolling. “Why can’t I sleep?”

There was no answer. Just that feeling again, fireworks on a perfect sky. Magical. Romantic. Something.

And then, like a soft breeze, you drifted into my mind.

I giggled. Just a little. Just enough.

It was not even a thought, really. More like a presence. You were just there. The way you smile, and how your eyes smile too. The way you care, not with grand gestures, but with thoughtful little things. Like remembering my coffee. Or getting me a heater jacket to keep me toasty on freezing days. Or giving me your beanie when my ears were cold. Or picking me up, even when it’s out of your way.

And suddenly, I wondered, do I ever steal your thoughts the way you have stolen mine?

Do I give you this feeling... the one that cannot be explained?

Do you ever lie awake, smiling into the dark, whispering I can’t sleep because your heart is too full? Because your mind is busy? Because your body’s tingling with bursts of happiness?

I did not know. But I hoped. I wondered.

I hoped that somewhere, maybe not far from here, you were tossing and turning too. Not from worry, but from wonder. From curiosity. From the kind of joy that makes sleep feel like a waste of time.

I closed my eyes again, plushie snug against my chest, and let the feeling wash over me.

Maybe I will sleep soon. Maybe not.

But for now, I will lie here in the dark, wrapped in warmth, cuddling my plushie, and get lost in possibility, as I think of you.

And smile.