Dream a leetle dream
2004-09-21, 11:21 a.m.

(Can someone essplain why the spacing on this is all fuckey-mudgey?)

I love Sleep. And generally, Sleep loves me. We're lovers, Sleep and me. My history proves this. Prior to 2002, I was nominated for - and awarded: Champion Sleeper of All-Time. An impressive title, I know. I keep the trophy up on my bookshelf and pull it down to snuggle with before naps. There was a time when the Sandman would tuck me in and kiss me goodnight, and then 1, 2, 6, I was gone. Into a gloriously drooling sleep. To oblivion and beyond! Of course, I had the obvious inconveniences of a job that interfered with my profound kinship to Sleep, but I made amends on the weekend, when bedding down until noon was commonplace and Sleep and I were simpatico. Ahhhhh yes, those were the salad days of my slumber. Just one small step above actually passing over.

That was B.A. (the period of time that has now become "Before Accident"). When life was rosy and Sleep loved me and all was grand. But Après Accident (A.A.), Sleep became angry and distant, and she didn't mind letting me know the lengths of her displeasure. Here I was willing to take the relationship to a whole new level, what with being unemployed and on drugs; I was willing to make a real commitment. But, like so many things I don't understand about A.A., Sleep pulled away, wanting no part of me. No matter the supplications I made, no matter how I begged for her return, we just failed to commune in the same way. She became an elusive, capricious little mistress who would sometimes visit, if the mood struck her, for a few hours here and there, but mostly left me afflicted--waiting, waiting, ohh the endless waiting in the darkness of my bed. Once, she abandoned me for days, no note, no call, just her absence hour after excruciating hour, day after punishing day. I knew then that something was over between Sleep and me.

In the two years A.A., Sleep and I have managed a shaky relationship, off again, on again, but it's never been as satisfying for me as it once was. I'm always left wanting more, and I can never be sure if and when she'll leave me again. Even the time we do spend leaves me fitful, hungover with the vivid images of the night before. And that is where you find me now.

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The other night, while waiting for sleep until a little after two, Matt rolled over with a "Ooh, ahh, uff, oww, ohh, uff, uff, oww." He's been prone to sleep-talk in the past, and it is something I greatly enjoy. Mostly, he'll fall asleep while we're talking at night and then proceed with the conversation per usual, until he says something like, "I don't have enough guns to protect your brother" and then I know he's done. I always try to further the conversation to see where it goes, but usually, once I get off subject and try to follow his windy dialogue, he drifts off and it's over.

Well, following the "Ooh, ahh, uff, oww, ohh, uff, uff, oww" the other night, there was a brief pause, where I thought he might wake up and say, "Turn off the goddamn television" or just yum-yum-go-back-to-sleep. What he did instead was start laughing absurdly. In his sleep. For a while. It was part-chortle, part-snigger, part-giggle. Matt has a wide and varied repertoire of laughs, one of the things that I adore about him, but I never heard him laugh like this. And certianly not in his sleep. It was simulataneously fascinating and creepy.

So, I asked, "What are you laughing at?" And his response was, "Our Señor Hugs." Oh man, how I loved that. "Our Señor Hugs?" I asked. "Yep. Señor Hugs" and then he laughed himself into sleep. There is so much I appreciate about that exchange, I'm not sure where to begin. Well, first of all, I got to thinking about the "ooh, ahh, uff, oww, ohh, uff, uff, oww" part, and I was wondering, what was Señor Hugs doing to him? Accosting him with, ummm, hugs? Haaaviously, he is Spanish, which I enjoy, that international aspect of things, And the Hugs? Come awwwn. But in the end, the "Our" part of it is what pleases me most. It's comedy in itself - made me think of Our Lady of Guadalupe or the like. Like some sort of patron saint or something. Plus, the "our" made me really glad Señor is mine, too.

Matt couldn't remember any of this in the morning, which is just as well, being that I spent the night tee-heeing over Señor and imagining his adventures for myself. I'll pray to Our Señor Hugs that I'll be able to find Sleep tonight, but if not, I think I just found my brand new lover.