Sweet, Sweet, Sleep: Part #1
It was one of those perfect mornings. The kind of morning you wake up whenever you please. No alarm clock to shock you awake; and no human to jolt you into misery, either. Nope! None of that horse caca on this sweet, summer morning. The best part—it was a Saturday. And although every day feels like a Saturday when you’re on summer vacation, it was on this specific day, that Kieran, did not have one…single chore. This was the only day of the week—one-out-of-seven, 0.14 percent of the time—she was free. And for Kieran, there was only one thing to do on a morning like this: sleep.
She was the only nine-year old in the whole neighborhood who would rather sleep than be outside. And video games? They were stupid in her eyes. She wanted no part of those things. She just wanted to dream. Even when she was awake her mind would drift off into a dream state. The world made more sense when she was asleep. And no one could tell her otherwise.
Kieran loved sleep so much, she would sleep whenever she could, and wherever she could. She slept as long as possible on school mornings, and when she was prepared for school, she would find a quiet spot and sleep again, until the bus arrived. She slept on the bus, amidst the deafening sounds of crying, yelling, burping, and farting, created by her classmates (whom she called idiots). She slept in class when she could get away with it; which she could, because Kieran sat in the back where her teacher didn’t have to deal with her. She even slept—you’re not going to believe this—at the dinner table afte she finished her meal! For her, sleep was everything, and she slept often…a little too often.
So, on this particular Saturday, Kieran prepared to do what she doe best, and she planned to do it for as long as a bear hibernates in the winter; which is a long time if you know about bears. Kieran nestled into her cot, as noise from the neighborhood kids penetrated her bedroom walls, and then continued into her brain walls. Irritated by the obnoxious noises, Kieran threw off her white, yellow-stained sheet, walked across her wooden floor, which creeped with every step, pulled the string on the low-hanging ceiling fan, and the noise from outside ceased. “Stupid dummies!” she whispered to herself, and smiled at her own insult (she amused herself, quite often).
On her way back to the musty cot she called her bed, she caught a glimpse of her body in the small, cracked mirror on her jewelry box; which lie atop her faded-brown dresser: her face was the color of beach sand and her hair was as orange as…well, an orange. A plain-pink shirt, same one she wore the day before, covered her stick-like body; and sweatpants—two sizes too small—hid her insect-bitten legs.
She paused for half-a-second, no more, and ran back to her cot, excited to dream a little more. She was back in her cot within seconds. She grabbed her sheet, covered with dots of yellow, wrapped them around her body like an Egyptian mummy, closed her eyes tighter than the squeeze of a Boa, and listened to the whir of the fan as it hypnotized her into a deep…deep…sleep….