The Relevant Parties

This Insomniac: me

The Layman: you (pun intended)

Sheep: we count on them

The Necessary Materials

Melatonin (in gummy form)

For The Layman, an instant conk-out. Meanwhile, this Insomniac ingests it mostly for the “Blackberry Zen” flavor. Also an effective (if inaccurate) retort if anyone ever sarcastically asks “How do you sleep at night?”

Eye Mask (ultrathick-lightblocking-weighted+)

It occurs to This Insomniac that ocular sleepwear represents the exact inverse of Batman’s cowl, which conceals everything except the eyes. And both Bruce Wayne and This Insomniac suit up at dusk. Does this make me reverse Batman?

Two Pillows (each on opposing ends of the firmness spectrum)

The brilliance of the di-pillow system is its versatility. Should the Upper Pillow become warm, it may be flipped. Should the Upper Pillow become warm and unsupportive, both Upper and Lower Pillows may be flipped simultaneously in a maneuver known as the Double Inversion.

White Noise From Spotify (set to loop ad infinitum)

And—oh ho ho—not just any track, Jack.

Rain Sounds make you aware of your bladder. Howling Wind makes you aware of your HVAC. Jungle Ambience makes you aware that jaguars have almost certainly breached the perimeter.

After years of trial and night terror, This Insomniac finally harpooned his white noise white whale: “Ruido Profundo” by Ardeon, the greatest of Spotify’s sleep sounds. At 199,053,059 plays and counting, it is the sleep-artist’s most popular track to date. (His most recent single, “Oscuridad Serena,” explores some darker themes but pales in comparison to his classics.)

Bedding (assembled lasagna-style)

This Insomniac’s body has rejected homeostasis in favor of climate zones. Sweltering heat by the head and shoulders gives way to glacial chill by the knees and toes (knees and toes). As a result, the bedding is a veritable lasagna of layers:

1. The neck remains exposed to the open air.

2. The torso receives one modest sheet.

3. Waist and below, the duvet reigns.

4. For the shivering knees, an additional quilt.

5. It takes years for This Insomniac’s circulatory system to reach his feet. These frostbitten extremities receive wool socks, a microwaved heating pad, and diplomatic recognition as an independent Nordic state.

The Nocturnal Regimen

11:00 P.M. Consume one Blackberry Zen. Climb into bed. Assume the position of someone who sleeps. Declare, with measured optimism, “Tonight may be different.”

11:17 P.M. Count sheep. The first hundred are indistinguishable.

11:33 P.M. Flip pillow. Immediately miss previous pillow orientation.

11:56 P.M. Bathroom. Deliver a motivational speech to yourself in the mirror. “You’ve slept before.” Technically true.

12:27 A.M. Chug an entire glass of water. Future You will deal with this.

1:06 A.M. The song “Mr. Sandman” is stuck in your head. Turn up the volume on Ruido Profundo. Gracias.

1:43 A.M. Count sheep again (this time only multiples of four).

2:31 A.M. Flip both pillows. You are now solving sleep using techniques normally reserved for Rubik’s Cubes.

2:50 A.M. Remember that time in high school when that girl said your eyes were “kind of close together.” Is she the reason you wear this mask? Hm. Pound two more Blackberry Zen.

3:35 A.M. Finally, mercifully, begin to drift off to dreamland…

3:36 A.M. Bolt awake. Spotify just autoplayed some shitty Snoozak called “Oceanic Oasis.” It hits your ears like a blowhorn. Restore Ruido Profundo. ¡Andale, andale!

3:59 A.M. Count sheep again. (Then sort them into competing flocks based on their backstories and political ideologies. Several have developed personalities. One is difficult.)

4:22 A.M. Your body’s temperature map undergoes a complete geomagnetic reversal—now your dogs are on fire and your cranium is an icebox. The blanket architecture undergoes emergency renovation. Fling your socks into the darkness. Immediately remember every horror movie in which monsters attack dangling feet. Replace socks.

4:48 A.M. Bathroom redux. Mostly to have a purpose. And Oceanic Oasis didn’t help. Check the time. Is this why these are called the wee hours?

5:17 A.M. Count sheep again. (Lord Rammington of the High Paddock has called a Council of the Five Flocks to discuss the prophecy that a new shepherd could threaten the uneasy peace that has persisted since ewe slaughtered ewe in the bloody Wool Wars.)

5:43 A.M. Make him the sweetest… that I’ve ever seen bum bum bum bum. Fuck The Chordettes.

6:16 A.M. Return to the bathroom. This trip is no longer physiological. It is ceremonial. Listen to the birds chirp outside the window. Stare deeply into your close-set, red eyes. Wonder what sleep is even for. Wonder what sort of twisted creator would imbue a species with sentience only to force them to sacrifice a third of their lives to pointless oblivion. Yawn. Yawn into the sunrise.

6:47 A.M. Sleep. At last. To sleep, perchance to dream? But by now your ultrathick-lightblocking-weighted+ eye mask feels like sandpaper. Ay, there’s the rub.

6:58 A.M. Exeunt consciousness.

7:00 A.M. Alarm.