My eyes are wide open as though it’s daytime. Everything is dark, still and silent. All I can hear is my dog at the foot of the bed licking her paws. Our usually noisy street is quiet. I’d normally be grateful for the peace but lying on my bed, I find it unnerving at 3am.
I want to will the sun to spread its rays on my bed and the busy day to begin. I want the hours to pass and the daily grind to begin.
I get up and gently close the door behind me. I turn on the computer and type “Why am I waking up at 3am?” into the search engine. AI tells me it’s because my cortisol levels are up and this is quite common. It also suggests that I could be stressed, have drunk too much alcohol or be experiencing “temperature fluctuations”. What a lovely way to describe those damn hot flushes.
My bodily temperature is simply fluctuating. It almost sounds playful, like my nervous system is dancing.
I shut the computer and sit in the dark. Nothing moves and everything is tinged with a dark blue glow. It’s luminous. The calm is a contrast to my busy mind that can’t seem to stop processing the day’s events. I read once that in medieval times it was common for people to sleep in two brackets.
They would get up in the middle of the night after the first sleep, have some food, feed the animals and even visit neighbours. Then they’d go to their second sleep. I wonder if that would work for me. Some company now would be nice. I wander over to the window to see if any lights are on in my neighbour’s unit. They are not.
Back in bed for my second sleep. I lie there and again all is still, quiet and nothing is moving. Even my dog is sleeping now, gently breathing, a slight whistle coming from her squished nose. I listen to my husband’s breathing, in and out at a steady pace – not too fast, indicating stress, and not too slow, making me wonder if he’s still alive.
I try something out.
I begin to breathe with him.
Breathe in for three seconds and out for five, breathe in for three seconds and out for for five.
We are synchronised.
A drowsiness comes over me after a little while and I feel myself falling, falling forward into the dark.
“Thank you”, I say into the night.
Rev. Dr Karina Kreminski, Mission Catalyst – Formation and Fresh Expressions, Uniting Mission and Education. Karina also blogs at An Ordinary Mystic
