Insomnia: Some of the Best Years of My Life

It’s 3 am once again, and I’m downstairs under intense observation by the NAI (National Academy of Insomnia)

Upstairs, the door opens. It’s Lea Ann up there, my partner in this experiment. We’re both awake at the same time, a rare occurrence as I’m the institutionalized insomniac and she’s normally a very trustworthy sleeper.

(For the record, I’m Lea Ann’s husband and Lea Ann’s my wife; Brooks and Lea Ann or Lea Ann and Brooks, whichever sequence of gender introduction feels right to us grammatically at the time. We’re on a first-name basis and have been for many years.)

That I know my wife is awake at this hour changes our dynamic. Even though she’s upstairs and I’m downstairs I can sense that she’s thinking deeply about her role in my nocturnal sleeplessness and the part it’s played in our relationship, as she’s a very perceptive, thoughtful, caring person. I know she thinks I should be a better sleeper, that if I did this or didn’t do that I would enjoy the same quality sleep she enjoys, and therefore be a better person.

Though she doesn’t say it out loud I can hear her say, “Brooks, no one is really interested in your insomnia but you. Your insomnia is a completely personal thing. You think it’s a disease but it isn’t a disease. A disease would be more interesting to others…”

By this time I’m almost certain that Lea Ann is upstairs making Sleepy Time Tea, while I’m still downstairs being observed by the NIA.

I feel I have to say something, I have to reply, even though my wife may not be able to hear me.

“Lea Ann, I’m just beginning to see that some of the best years of my life have been spent between the hours of 2 and 4 am and that you are have played a very important role in that time. I actually wrote a poem titled ‘4 am’. It’s in my first book of poems, The Second Dream (Momentum Press, 1986).

I read the poem to her. Even though she’s upstairs I think she can hear me reading: My breathing follows the first line of a poem;/late, the light on in some other room,/and it is so dark out there.