6:20 a.m. To Sleep Perchance to Dream

Jb's gone by 10:30. He's come down with a cold and is out like a light. For the first time in weeks, I can't sleep. I lie in bed well past midnight, words and thoughts rushing through my head. I've narrated all of my hospitalization, dissected parts of my relationships, my marriage, explained away the periods of increased sexuality, the nights I've stayed up until 4 a.m., and still the words keep flowing in my head. I try meditation, but I'm too distracted. The Tibetan monks call it "monkey mind." And when I try to relax my mind, it begins to hurt, like a bruise.

There's something else. the party line isn't there. In the past, late at night, when everything is quiet and so am I, if I focused inward, staying unobtrusive and silent, I could hear 8-10 voices paired up in conversation in my head. It's like eavesdropping on someone else's phone call. Sometimes I'd get vague flashes of context, especially if it's a family member, and sometimes, it'd merely be a low static of sounds in my head that I rode to sleep.

Don't think I'm confused. It's not the voice of my mind making these conversations up. I know the difference. Because once, and only once, there was a slick, black voice that told me upsetting things and asked for dangerous favors.

I finally fall asleep long after midnight, dream the vivid dreams I seem to have now, and remember none of them. I wake at 3 a.m. and then again at 6 a.m. It's more than that, though. I've been up and about most of the night. Because somewhere between midnight and 3 a.m., I ate the rest of the cookies I baked. Again, the Remeron. The sugar cravings are killing me.