Thoughts As You Realise Youre Not Going To Sleep
The first sign is that seditious little buzzing in your head. It’s probably the cup of tea just before bed. I mean, it’s not a good idea to have those things just before you go to sleep, is it? Milk would have sufficed, or just a glass of water, or nothing really. Why do I need a drink anyway?
I guess looking at my iPhone hasn’t helped, too. All those flashing lights. I guess people back in the 1800s slept a lot better than us because they weren’t constantly hearing their phone buzz, although I hear that fighting the Crimean war/campaigning for the vote/oppressing the colonies wasn’t exactly conducive to good sleep. I wonder what they thought of as they drifted off, those men and women in 1836?
The buzzing doesn’t go away. And unlike usual, it doesn’t seem to go away when I put my head on the pillow. This is the point where that dreadful sinking feeling starts to happen - the sudden realisation that tonight is going to be one of those nights where one lies in bed disconsolately until five before sleep comes.
I can’t sleep. How can I sleep? I spent the last hour before bed looking at a massive piece of writing about the making of the movie Moon, and now my head is full of thoughts of these cold angular facilities. Moon is a film that you really need to see. You might find that you only want to see it once, but it’s compulsory.
It’s one of those films where it is crucial that you don’t know anything going into it other than this:
There is a man, whose name is Sam Bell. He’s working on his own on a facility on the moon, where he is a miner. Something goes horribly wrong.
And that’s it. That’s all you should know. If you like Sci-Fi, watch this. If you don’t like Sci-Fi, watch this. If you like horror, you’re sure to find something in here for you. If you don’t like horror, don’t worry! It’s not scary, just deeply, deeply moving.
And I assure you, it’s visually so stunning that you’ll -
But here I am. Lying in bed at three in the morning wondering when I’m going shuffle out of the world of the waking, and it’s just not happening.
After a while I start to realise how silly this is. I mean, it’s only three. In London, people are spilling out of clubs and bars. In Ronnie Scott’s jazz club on Frith Street, Michael Mwenzo is just finishing the late late show. He’s probably dancing up through the seats at the moment. The South Bank will be cold and empty.
But there’s something rather different about being in bed at this hour and wanting to sleep. A despondency descends behind the buzzing of my head and it doesn’t really go away. When it’s late and you can’t sleep, you forget that the morning is going to come. I don’t mean that in some sort of pretentious way - it just happens. It seems that the night is going to stretch on and on forever, and your only hope is to ride it out.
