When I was young, I’d fight sleep until I was so exhausted, I’d pass out. It’s not that I was worried I’d miss something (okay, maybe a little). If you’re so tired you literally can’t see straight, there are no dreams or nightmares.
Here I am thirty-six years later and I still fight sleep. I don’t even know I do it anymore. It’s just how it is.
What I wouldn’t give to have a consistent good night's sleep.
But I’m a writer. There’s this idea that I have to get typed before I can sleep. Or there’s editing that needs to be done. Or…
I guess what they say is true. I’ll have plenty of time to sleep when I’m no longer alive.