Writing Letters In Your Head

The past couple of nights I’ve had trouble sleeping. Don’t know why but I toss and turn and get up and then go back and toss and turn some more. Nothing was bothering me but I just could relax and go to sleep. Maybe I hadn’t had enough to drink? Maybe I didn’t stay up too late? Maybe I was too hot or too cold?

Last night I was nodding off at the computer so I figured it was time to go to sleep. Normally I can lie down and nod off, but not last night. I may have gotten an upset tummy from a late night salad? I may have eaten too late? I may have…. Well, whatever it was I was not snoozing.

After two hours of maybe a quick nap or two, I got back up and started all over again. Read some boring stuff and after a half an hour, try again.

It was dark enough and quiet enough. The NPR broadcast was soothing classical music so I should have been drooling by now. Yet I couldn’t no matter how hard I tried.

As I lay there I tried to analysis what was keeping me awake? What was I doing that was different that the usual night?

I was lying on the same sheets and the same pillows and following the same routine with the same blanket. The shoes had been put in the same place and the glasses had been put in their case. So what was different?

I was thinking. That is not a new thing but usually I think about tomorrow goals or a quick review of today’s actions and then slumber time slips in to be followed by snoring and drooling.

I wasn’t just thinking. I was writing letters. I was writing letters in my dreams that was not sleeping.

Some say that dreams are your mind reorganizing your thoughts but this was different. I was writing letters in my dreams.

Letters, as I have previously written, were the only way to communicate to someone outside of vocal sounding. Letters was the way of giving another a thought or wishes or describes an occurrence to another who was not there. Thoughts had to be carefully phrased to get the message across and not too long to become bulky and expensive. Pen was put to paper and words were crafted to relay a message. The paper was sealed inside an envelope and mailed with the proper postage. The reply had to be awaited.

I say this because there was no email or Skype or Tweeting or texting or whatever is being used now. The telephone could also be used but it was expensive for long distance and was difficult to say the words without seeing the other’s facial reactions.

So last night with my eyes closed, I was writing letters. No salutations or exit signatures for thought no one else will ever hear, but I was just scribbling away in my head.

There was no spell check but I was just tapping out words and thoughts to people who I may have wanted to say these things but never have or did. I was having a running conversation with myself through these letters and it was keeping me awake.

Tonight I will stay up a little longer and have another beer or two and hope to get some shuteye. If not, I’ll just accept I need to get this out and wait for the next moment to nod off.

If you are sleeping and hear that little bell sound don’t worry. You Got Mail.