The Impossible Dream
Babies are a bit shit, what with the crying, peeing and bawling all day. They can’t even walk or talk. In fact, they’re so stupid that people (whoever they are) have a saying that some things are so easy even a baby could do it. But there’s one thing that babies can do that I can’t, and that’s fall asleep. I’m not as good as a four month old smelly, yelling shit-sack.
Laying down in bed has this wonderful effect, where any caffeine that I’ve had through the day all bands together in my brain and has a disco, a big thumpy “hey you, the day’s almost over, you’re never getting it back. Are you pleased with what you’ve done today?” party.
Suddenly, everything in the world, whether I’ve noticed it previously or not, becomes annoying. There’s a gap in the curtains, so a little bit of light is coming through. The corner of the sheet has untucked itself. The landing light is on. My knees feel weird when they rub together. Knees are weird, aren’t they? And eyes. Before I know it, it’s 2am and I’ve been thinking about what it would feel like to hold an eyeball for three hours.
Being asleep is a bit rubbish because it’s the point that you’ve thrown away yet another day of your pointless life, and it’s just a matter of hours until you have to get up again and waste another day.
The only redeeming thing about being asleep is dreaming. Not dreaming in a Martin Luther King way, or in a “if I could pick a super-power, which would it be?” way. The obvious answer is invisibility, because you could sneak into the cinema without paying and freak people out by surprise pooing near them.
Dreams aren’t really like the dreams that pop-stars and celebrities bang on about, you don’t really dream about lifting the World Cup or singing so tunefully that Amanda Holden cries.
You dream about finding an extra room in your house that’s never been there before and you’re not all that surprised because it could just have been an oversight. And you go into the room and all of a sudden you’re in a field, and it was a door into a field and that’s fair enough, cos who knows. Oh, and there’s that guy you lived next door to ten years ago. What’s he doing here? Hmm, nevermind. Everything’s just sort of cool in a dream. You can accept anything.
Remember nightmares? They were like angry dreams, but you only got them when you were a kid. Proper people don’t get them, do they? Sometimes dreams can be a bit shit and you wake up and think, “hmm, that’s a relief” and go back to sleep for ten minutes, because god knows that after 8 hours sleep the first thing you need is another ten minutes. And not, say, to spend that 10 minutes getting ready so you’re not late.
Laying down for hours on end every single day, trying to shut your brain down so it can go mad and tell you stories that you promptly forget, and nobody ever questions it as being just a tiny bit weird. But watch out for Freddie Krueger.