I Couldn't Sleep
2008; Elsevier BV; Volume: 133; Issue: 6 Linguagem: Inglês
10.1378/chest.08-0036
ISSN1931-3543
Autores ResumoI couldn't sleep because I couldn't breathe. I did not dream. I woke up exhausted. To run the marathon of each day I drank coffee going uphill, smoked cigarettes going down. In the evening more caffeine to try to write. I wore my life like an ill-fitting suit. The drinks saved me and I fell in love with the lifeguard. I gained weight. I did not like the doughiness, but after a life of feeling small it was intriguing to appear big. I couldn't sleep because I couldn't breathe. I did not dream. I woke up exhausted. My wife, also unable to sleep would shake me awake and whisper “Stop! You're doing it again!” I wanted to weep – I had no idea what I was doing, except I had just fallen asleep. All my life. Stop – you're doing it again. I couldn't sleep because I couldn't breathe. I did not dream. I woke up exhausted. They wired me from head to toe; strange, bored science fiction. The data suggested that I was dying little deaths in my sleep. No dreams. My heart was a fairly new car with too many miles on it. The apparatus turned me into a nightmare pachyderm. The hum, the tangle, the constant wind in my face. Now I had dreams. Bad dreams. The doctor broke my nose and stuffed my head with cotton. I got four days off from work. I woke up tired. I cried in the shower, my prayers to make it through another day sounding pitiful. Drinks and cigarettes were my Christmas and birthday. Desperation can make you do foolish things. Exhaustion can make you turn away from the one who truly loves you. I placed my false peace in a paper boat and put it in the stream. And now I sleep. and now I dream. And sometimes I dream of whiskey. And sometimes I dream of wine. And sometimes I dream of me, in the paper boat, taking on water.
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