Last night, as I laid in bed and tried to quiet the monkeys riding bicycles around my brain, I thought about beliefs. Specifically, I reflected on the hypnotist at the party last week and how I thought that was all bullshit. Yet, each night when I go to bed, I live in morbid fear that a hand will reach out from under the bed and grab me by my ankle. I am a grown woman. I know that nothing (other than dust mites) lives under my bed. As a rational human being, I completely understand this.
But rationality has nothing to do with it when I turn off the light and can’t see anything because my eyes haven’t adjusted to the darkness yet but I know there’s about eight inches of clearance between the floor and the bottom of the bed frame so I have to mentally bitch slap myself to walk down the side of the bed because I’d rather have the fear for the one or two seconds it takes to walk to the appropriate place of bed-entry than have to admit to myself I’m still a child in many ways and leap from the foot of the bed to avoid the ankle-grabbing whatever it is.
So, perhaps bullshit like this is the reason I suffer from intermittent insomnia. It’s that adrenaline rush right before trying to sleep. Note: I never had insomnia when I slept on a futon.