I fell into my clean sheets anticipating a beautiful and slumberous night and I thought: easily this is going to be one of those rare occasions where I’ll get in a full 8 hours. The last one being in another era; perhaps the summer of `1979 when I had not a worry in the world. I was so tired after a full week of work and kids and then, almost freezing to death during a planned jaunt up Apex for night skiing on Friday! We regretted that decision almost instantly once we got out of the car and felt the blast of minus 22 on our exposed cheeks. I spent the next few hours snapping Rowans skis on and off – he’s such a trooper- and Marshall spent most of the evening struggling with his bindings, but the few runs of his I did see were impressive! He’s a rocket on that snow board and kudos to his Mom for her investment in that category. The hot chocolate on the way back down the mountain mended all of our frozen extremities and we ended the evening snuggled in front of the telly with our snacks and a few belly laughs over “The Nutty Professor”.

There is a place you enter, just before falling asleep, where you are just slightly aware of your surroundings. It’s a delicate stage which I think is called the ‘Theta state”, where you are deeply relaxed and your brain waves, although slow, are still able to react to the conscious world around you . I was in that place when our friendly household Poltergeist made it’s entrance. As my body’s natural dose of melatonin began to kick in, a thump and a crash came from just outside my room. It stirred me…. no, it momentarily terrified me, and I was now awake, again, but not so much that I felt urged to get out of bed and confront whatever paranormal force was expecting me. I decided my covers were as good a place as any and a wise decision too because it wasn’t long before I was pulled back into slumber. It was later, after my second awakening that I braved opening my door and noted the lamp lying on the floor, for no apparent reason. Maybe it was the cat. Or maybe it wasn’t.

At 0’dark thirty, something began welling up from my abdomen. I awoke and realized right away it was acid reflux which rarely happens to me anymore. But I recalled, while laying there having tummy troubles, that I’d wafted down a couple of handfuls of tortilla chips with salsa just before heading off to bed and it was only now, at whatever hour it was, that my Mexican friends decided to take whacks at the Piñata in my belly. No matter what position I moved to, the feeling wouldn’t go away. I got up and turned on the light and wished to God for a tums, but I knew I’d already eaten the year old ones from my first aid kit a few months back. No luck, so wanting to avoid the ghostly activity in my living room, I switched on all my lights before pouring myself a tall glass of pee warm water and then I zipped back to bed quickly. I lay in bed awake for what seemed like eternity until eventually last nights feeding frenzy dropped into my lower abdomen in search of an exit. Another trip to the bathroom and I was done, I think.

Now for some shuteye… or so I thought.

I dozed off and as the wee hours progressed, just before I felt something crawling along my arm, I was back in Vancouver’s 4th avenue district grilling chicken breasts during dinner rush at Las Margaritas. In my dream I was struggling to keep up with line service but still, the nostalgic retread was a pleasant deviation from the weird world we live in today. We were feeding a full house of happy guests, nobody was 6 feet apart and no one wore masks, and I even had a run-in with my old boss. I should have held the burning chicken hostage while I leveraged for a raise, but it was a short visit apparently, because along came night-spider crawling along my exposed arm; perhaps ready to dig his fangs in before I woke up and swatted the invisible monster away. Damned! what is up with this night? I thought, out loud. I was afraid to look at the time, so I got up and did my little dance to the kitchen for another dose of water. Back again to bed. Third time lucky perhaps!

As the dawn light began to shine through the window and my eyes cracked open slightly, I began to hear the faint cries of a cat who’d most likely had as restless a night as I did. How generous of her to wait until morning! It was not long ago I had to set up a barrier in front of my bedroom door made out of couch cushions as she felt entitled to scratch and pound at my door relentlessly until I could bear it no more. She got the message one night when I got up and put her in a closed room with her food bowl and kitty litter. It was then after when the barriers appeared so she began to leave me alone during sleeping hours. But lately she has taken to waiting outside of my door until just the exact time my eyes begin to open, Which usually means around six am. I don’t know how she does it but really, what else do house cats have to do other then study their owners? Often I am unnerved by her unwavering, unblinking staring sessions and I am convinced she is always sizing me up for her next exploit.

By this time, I was thoroughly exhausted. It was time to throw in the towel and chalk one up for the universe, who’d kindly thwarted my plans for a full 8 hour sleep. Meh! Who needs it anyways? I find people who get that much sleep are far too fresh and chirpy and sometimes, as humans our composure needs to have an element of grouchiness, otherwise we’d all just feel sunshiny and happy all the time! And who needs that kind of a world, right?

So there it was! A mixed genre adventure, right there in my very own bed when I should have been sleeping. Ghosts, piñata parties, tacos, spiders and cats, and it all happened in one night! Just like Scrooge! And now I am nodding off at my desk and it’s only just past noon. I wonder what’s in store for me tonight? Definitely not chips and salsa!. Which leads me to wonder: does the last thing you eat before bed dictate the thematic element of your dreams?

Hmm, perhaps tonight I will try the haggis!

Signing off

Simon Kelly