Rest

     I dreamt I was in bed one morning, lying awake, trying to get the last few minutes of rest before the alarm would ring.  Lists of what I would do for the day came rushing up.  They compiled themselves in steady ticks like an old printer spitting out one line, then another.  Still, I determined to stay prone, squeezing out every moment to which I was entitled.  I planned to hit the snooze alarm when the clock would blare.  I calculated the number of minutes that would buy me, the number it would leave me on the other side of the morning- how long I would have to get ready for work, and what I could do to compress the necessary tasks into the new timeframe.  I knew I wouldn't sleep anymore, but I was stubborn and wouldn't compromise the sleep time even if I wasn't using it for the intended purpose.  But I was.  Sleeping.  Sleeping and dreaming of not sleeping and wishing I was sleeping.

     Sleep deprivation can do funny things to a person.  I had observed it in my husband last year during his busy season, and now I was seeing it in myself.  September has been a busy, stressful month.  On top of all the usual obligations with their usual complications, I've had a few special events to plan and attend.  I've also added a new factor to the mix- night classes at the county college.  The subject is interesting and the benefits of applying the lessons are obvious, but the pace is intense.  Three and a quarter hours of class time every Tuesday and Thursday still don't seem enough to contain the material.  We often work through breaks or stay after, asking questions, and there is at least as much time devoted to homework that is assigned at every session.  Many of my fellow students have complained (or dropped out) because of the pace.  Even the week-long break between the first two classes of the series was not homework free.  I'm definitely getting my money's worth.

     But that means that other aspects of my life are temporarily short-changed while I focus on the current goal.  More of the small tasks like shopping, cooking and dishes have fallen to my husband, who is being really supportive about everything.  Bigger housework is left unfinished until I have time to devote to it.  Writing time has been limited, though I've made efforts to preserve it.  It wouldn't be wise to cut that out at a time when I need all the stress relief I can get.  I've skipped some walks at lunchtime in favour of working on homework or writing, and I know that I haven't been eating as well as I should.  Convenient, quick food is often not the healthiest option.  Then there's sleep, or lack of it.  A couple of late nights doing homework or catching up on household tasks followed by early rising to go to work can throw the whole schedule off.  You spend a day as a coffee zombie, and it's that much harder to sleep the next night- not to mention the anxiety of all the things you know you need to get done.  So, I spent a couple of weeks in a haze, only knowing what day it was because I started each morning by staring at the calendar and fixing my position in the churning sea of time.  "Today is Thursday.  Today, I have to do A, B, and C..."

     Now, I know it's all worth it, and I know the extra stress is temporary, but I say again that sleep deprivation can do strange things to your mind.  One day after only about 3 1/2 hours of sleep, I decided to spend my lunch period walking.  As I walked, the late summer sun cast a deep shadow on the grass next to me, a distorted image of myself so dark it seemed to have substance.  It kept pace with me companionably, and as it caught the corner of my eye, for a second my sleepy fuzzy brain told me it was my grandmother walking with me.  There must have been something familiar in the way I was moving, just some motion my mind could catch and categorize as hers.  But, for a moment the reality didn't matter.  She was there.  everything would be all right, and I would have the strength to make it through to where I could rest.