“To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come…” (Hamlet)
To die, to sleep, perchance to dream? All I want is to sleep! One night, no dreams, no thoughts running through my head.
To die? Well I’m not that desperate yet. As a matter of fact I did die once, and before you ask, no, niet, nada. Not a light, not an angel, no pearly gates, nothing. I didn’t even know I actually “passed on” till I read the doctor’s report of my death. Talk about an eyeopener, literally! A second time I thought I was dying and so did everyone else in the room, doctors and nurses included. That was scary, because I realized what was happening.
This week while family gathered, we were joking around, speaking about the ages of different ones. I mentioned something about I’ll be dead before then, and my daughter pipes up, “weren’t you dead already, a couple of times? You’ll outlive all of us!” We all laughed, and I said, “Oh, my, God help us all!” And I meant it. I’m already getting what I describe as crotchety, proven today by losing patience with my 13 year old grandson. He’s emulating the “drive you nuts, but I’m lovable” style of his older brother. He and his older sister were here to wrap presents and the day before was horribly busy and tiring. Having only two hours sleep, I was not my usually grandma persona. And they don’t believe me if I say that’s enough, I’m serious! Because I’m not usually serious. And they can make me smile even if I’m mad. Does that make me a pushover?
Back to the sleep. After today’s wrapping half the day and entertaining the ten year old tonight, I’m tired. Why can’t I sleep? It’s 5:22 AM. I’m writing this because sleep just won’t come. Hamlet had it easy.