Morpheus

As I seem to be locked in a temporary writing pattern of Greek Mythological exploration (please enjoy “Icarus” and “Pandora” below), I had to admit that I was absolutely fed up with Morpheus.

Mythic god of sleep, dreams, Gothic teenagers and noir graphic novels, I was sick and tired of being TIRED!

If I have one spectacular gift in this Universe aside from my occasional wordsmith musings and adaptability to mimic actresses in Hollywood (sans insult); I pride myself in my Olympian capabilities to sleep, perchance to dream!

But as my burgeoning travel plans are beginning to squeeze the delicate synapses of my anxious nervous system, I’m finding that my usual hardcore, nearly cutting off oxygen to an arm underneath my Charlie Brown head, and crusty Sensodyne toothpaste residue puddles of drool on my pillows are far less frequent...

My beloved Sleep was becoming elusive!

Was I only half way conscious when I tossed my head upon my cherished pillows?  All I knew in the moment was that SOMETHING needed to be added to my airline checklist. And grabbing a nearby pen off the nightstand, I scribbled down whatever came to mind in my Limbo-dwelling thought process (apparently written in Greek?), as I sat up stupidly the next day trying to decipher the code. 

“Alto-gu”.

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My next evening was no less distressing, as flopping over to diagonally encompass the expanse of my luxurious Egyptian cotton bedding, my high school sweetheart Brad suddenly appeared and “stared” me “awake”.

“What are you doing in Los Angeles?” I wondered, absolutely befuddled since (as far as I know) he’s a happily married man.  “And who’s that behind you?” I asked, as my college sweetheart Christopher (also married) suddenly sat up hogging the sheets.  “And why are you both soaking wet and reeking of chlorine?” I demanded to know.

“I was a swimmer!” Brad reminded me.

“And I was a diver!” Christopher chimed in.

Oh, FFS.

“Yeah, well, grab a towel out of the bathroom and dry off before you both catch a cold” I dismissed them as I snuggled under the blankets.

But grabbing a pen and paper a few moments later, I scribbled down the next indecipherable code.

“pashm”.

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Stupidly assuming that the worst was over, I once again I laid my head down the following night to quiet the demons and achieve some seriously desired rest.

And almost content, I was approximately two minutes (and two puffs into a cigarette in my dream???), when my deceased Grandma (on my Mom’s side) started berating me for “sucking on cancer sticks”.

AW, C’MON!

Apparently, there’s no rest for the weary!

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Beyond thankful for all of the emailed advice I’ve received on how to travel these days (items that I never would have thought to bring, as well as excellent suggestions to buy water in a bottle AFTER security checks); lovely gestures on my parent’s behalf (Hello?  Yes, they have shampoo in the home Fortress, as well as in the hotel and Casino where I’ll be staying in New York); and even hush-hush hints from my sister (who’s a fellow ciggy smoker with tips on electronic cigarettes); I figured that AT LAST I could finally claim a tiny bit of sleep.

But as luck would have it, apparently I’d STILL left something off of my checklist that had become a freaking mile long.

What now?  What’s left?  What could I possibly have forgotten?

“4glpnz-cas-zplb”.

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Whilst I can’t exactly PROVE it, I suspected that my pea-brain was up to something sneaky in cahoots with Morpheus, minus my consent or control...

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Although I thoroughly resented the absolute lack of sleep all night after flopping around like a beached whale on the sand trying to catch its breath, I sat up at six in the morning, accepted the fact that Morpheus had other plans on his agenda and decided to attempt to decipher my codes.

Quite frankly, “Alto-gu” seemed rather obvious, as I was feeling particularly petulant from lack of REM, and I crankily needed some sort of oral pacifier.  

Duh, Altoids!  And gum!

 

(Hmm...  I may have to rethink my preferred packaging since I’ll be searched by the TSA, and they quite rightfully seem to have sort of an “iffy” sense of humor...)

As to “pashm”, my friend and Script Supervisor Bonnie had reminded me that despite the outdoor humidity during my travels, it’s never a bad idea to bring along a sweater for the indoor air conditioning.  And giddily scampering off to stuff my favorite pashmina gift from my pal Tara in my carry-on, I once again had to rethink that choice too...

 

(Too much for airline travel and fellow passengers?)

Yet certainly “4glpnz-cas-zplb” couldn’t jack me up, right?

“FOUR different colored gel pens on the airplanes for your crossword puzzles?” my Dad questioned patiently.  “Maybe you could get by with only two colors?” he suggested helpfully should my writing implements be confiscated as liquids and/or sharp objects.

“Maybe” I cringed.

(Good Lord, how does anyone with a bit of OCD travel ANYWHERE these days?!?!  My occasional bouts of OCD make me brilliant at my job as a Stand-in and have kept me working as an Actor too!)

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Nevertheless! 

Regarding “cas”, I was reminded that indeed I would need cash for my cab to the airport, as well as a few single dollars if I could check in my one hardback suitcase at the curb whilst they printed out three boarding passes for the day.  And scuttling off in Cecilia (my Toyota) to take care of financial business at the bank prior to my travels, we managed to transfer two (seemingly unrecoverable, as the EDD website has been down) weeks of Unemployment into my checking account via a bank teller.

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As to “zplb” however, I confess I was rather stymied...

Now, I don’t know if you believe in The Universe occasionally pointing you in the right direction when you need it; but scanning for a new roll of aluminum foil to use in my toaster oven as I strolled about a local store, my eyes fell onto a box of Zip-Lock baggies. 

“Zplb”?  Could it be for toiletries?  (Good job, pea-brain!)

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However, even equipped with everything I could ever possibly need for my travels, Morpheus kept his elusive distance night after night after night...

Argus-eyed at three, four, five (etc.) in the morning, I discovered that apparently all of my dreams could be fulfilled with a nothing more than a credit card and products sold on infomercials.  And granted, I was exhausted, but that didn’t make me STUPID!

“Just what are you up to?” I finally confronted the cranium.

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In what I’ve decided must be some sort of unusual coping mechanism, Morpheus has kept me wide awake for the last few nights; but has recently descended with a Thor-like hammer at about 2pm in the afternoon to knock me out of the blue into a coma-like oblivion until dinnertime.

And quite frankly, it’s not a bad plan...  (I’ve learned not to question The Universe.)

I’ve become rather accustomed to the white noise hum of my A/C during the day with the blinds drawn; and with the occasional dialogue from my TV with the volume set on low, I do believe that my tiny little pea-brain is preparing for me to sleep ever so pleasantly as I aviate from 10am to almost midnight.

(Plus, I bought some Benadryl, just in case...)

Looking forward to visiting my loved ones!

~OCD P