Insomnia Takes Many Forms

Patterns dance across the ceiling as the last bus passes by. The World Service can’t drown out the beating of my heart. I’m not going to be able to get any sleep. How can I when I’m only delaying the inevitable? Must I abandon a warm, bed for the dark, wet streets? Scurry past the silent office blocks? Join the bored, lo8nely, rootless people in the 24 hour supermarket? Ignore the scornful glance of the bored girl on the cash only, ten items or less (should be ‘fewer’, but they won’t listen) checkout?

Could I just put my raincoat on over my dressing gown? Would people out on the streets at this time notice, or even care? Probably not, but it would just be my luck to run into a policeman. He might picture the bulge of an explosive device under my pink candlewick and call for the boys with the guns? No! Don’t be silly! I don’t fit the profile. He’d take one look at my pale skin, faded blue eyes and wrinkles and assume that I’ve lost my marbles or escaped from somewhere. “Come on, Ma, I’ll see you home.”

In the shadows there’s a stirring. A dark form is writhing towards me. Should I ignore him? I could. I really could, even now when he’s breathing right into my face and his menacing rumble is making the bed shake. If I open my eyes, I know what I’ll see. ‘The Devil’s fire’, they called it in the Middle Ages, when his kind was persecuted. A battle of wills begins that I know I’m going to lose. A little gentle pressure on my throat and he’s won. I stare into the glow of triumphant green eyes.

“All right! I’ll go out and fetch you some damned cat food!”

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