Don’t Wake Me Up

CJ - Lexington, Kentucky
Entered on April 24, 2008
Age Group: 18 - 30
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Don’t Wake Me Up

I believe in more sleep for a normal human being. Sleep is numero uno on my list of favorite activities. I love curling up on a warm summer night in blankets cold from the night before, wrapping my arms around a crowd of pillows, and having great dreams. The sad, funny, weird, or déj– vu dreams are something I look forward to as I drift away.

All my sleeping takes places in my bed. a wooden bunk bed with the bottom bed lying horizontally and at a right angle to the top bunk bed. The bed lies smack in the middle of my room, obstructing the way to everything. I have carved out a small floor way passage around the bed, among all my dirty clothes and papers. When I crawl into bed I have to be careful to navigate around the shelves on the left side beyond my cabinet/drawers. Merely climbing into my bed is a very exhausting task in itself.

Not only is my bed the place where I get all my sleep, but it’s also where I keep important things like food and beer. I hide the beer that I sneak into the house on a shelf to the right of my bed. In my spare time, away from soccer and school, I just lie in bed, listen to music, and have a beer. My mom would have to actually crawl into my bed to find my beer, and I know she wouldn’t do that because no one is allowed to touch my bed. But my mom would never want to touch my bed anyway. The bed takes up the whole room, with barely enough space carved out to the right side of it to make the task of opening my closet a little easier. The size and location of my bed show just how important it and sleep are to me. My bed is by far my favorite place.

Sleep matters so much that it’s caused me to miss soccer practice. I’ve lost count of how many times my coach has called to wake me and ask where I am. Soccer is very important to me, and I would definitely never sacrifice soccer for sleep. I’m fortunate enough that my coaches like me; otherwise, I would have been kicked off the team a long time ago. If I’m in a really deep sleep, having a lot of crazy dreams, then it’s incredibly hard to wake me for anything.

Part of the reason I love sleeping so much is because of the crazy dreams I have. Some of the dreams are more interesting than real life; anything and everything happens in my dreams. One of the dreams started with my brother and me driving down the street that my brother lived on near Lafayette public high school. We got out of the car right in front of his house and saw tons of beer cans and cups scattered on the lawn. He opened the door to the house and we saw three limp bodies of drunks passed out on the floor and both couches. The dog started to bark when we closed the door, and the three people woke up groaning like drunken fools. One person got off the couch and scooted his way towards the bathroom. Another person rolled over and went back to sleep, and I realized it was me sleeping on the floor, and I was watching myself sleep. When we could see the person’s face as he walked back from the bathroom, we realized it was my brother Marty. As we stood looking at ourselves, we began to wonder who was the other person on the second couch. I turned the unknown person over and saw my drooling friend Greg Jackson. Our jaws dropped from the shock of watching ourselves sleeping and moving around, so we went back to the car.

Once we got to the car, we found Greg asleep in the back seat, and we realized he had been in the car the whole time. Marty started the engine, and as soon as we started driving I looked out the window to see that we were on a completely different street from where we had been just seconds earlier, before we had gotten into the car. This new street was totally foreign to me; I had never seen or been on a street like this before. There were no cars around, even though we were driving down a road. It was almost all dark around the car, except for our extremely bright head lights. All of a sudden a car came out of nowhere, right in front of us, and began spinning out of control. The car was getting closer and closer to the car Marty, Greg, and I were driving in, and didn’t look like it was going to stop. The dream ended with the out of control car smashing right into our car. After a loud crash and explosion, I woke up. The only thing I remember right before I woke up was the crash, and the strange sight of me sitting next to Marty, who was driving, and Greg still sleeping in the backseat. We had absolutely no look of panic on our faces, which is the reaction one would usually expect if their car was about to be slammed into by another vehicle.

My whole life I’ve had to wake up early and go to school or to soccer practice. Because I never want to lift weights in the afternoon, or any time—ever—8:00 a. m. weightlifting is the worst. As I’ve said, sleeping has caused me to miss school and soccer practice; my stupid annoying alarm clock has caused me to miss the finishes to my good dreams. Though it shakes awake everyone in the house, that clock is the only thing that can wake me up. I can’t even be woken up to say good-bye to someone leaving my house or a house where I am a guest.

My friend Josh Lipka and I, along with our moms, go to Fripp Island where Josh’s Mom, Laura, has an aunt living off the coast of South Carolina close to the state line of Georgia, near Fripp Island where Vietnam scenes from the film Forrest Gump were shot. Josh and I go out every night to an open bar on the beach, listen to live music, and have a few drinks. This bar is within walking distance of the house where we stay. In one particular incident, we walked, finished our drinks, and threw them in the trash near the house doorway. We played Xbox until we beat the whole game. I looked at my phone as the game’s final credits rolled down the screen. It was 4:30 a.m. I was on vacation, determined to make up for lost sleep.

Something just had to ruin my plans for massive sleep regeneration. My mom came into the room at 9:30 a.m. to wake Josh and me to say good-bye to Laura’s aunt’s brother Phil. I met Phil, said “hi,” then moved on to the plan of the day—to lie on the beach and maybe juggle a soccer ball a couple of times. As usual, my mom was determined to get me up, but I was not budging. Josh got up immediately and put his shoes on, but I was not going to lose a wink. Finally, after threats of no boat trip and immediate departure, I just turned over and pulled the covers over my head. Josh, traitor that he is, followed Mom’s instructions to get a glass of water and pour it on my head. I just used the blanket to dry my hair off, wrapped my arms around my pillow, and shifted my legs so they were comfortable. They left me alone, my mom furious at me and Josh silently chuckling. I never said bye to Phil; that would have been only the second word I would have ever said to him anyway.

Sleep is something I love to do, but every day of the school year a portion is taken from me. Trying to fulfill the eight hours needed does not even matter because I need at least ten. Reaching that mark of ten hours during the summer usually occurs without even turning over. In the summer I feel rested and I am more outgoing because I get my fill of sleep otherwise consumed by soccer or school.