Have you ever confused a dream with life?
Maybe insomnia is punishment for those of us who never bothered to really be anything during the day. We're forced to be up all night, so consumed with the smallest of thoughts that in the end, even daylight causes suffering. Confusion and loneliness then get the chance to make their grand entrance.

I remember the day I met you because it was nothing special. I was walking down Cobbler Street and you asked me for directions. I gave them to you and off you went, towards wherever you wanted to go, to do whatever it was you wanted to do. We were strangers. As it happens we kept bumping into one another until you mustered up the courage to ask me to hang out. I went over to your place. As I entered I immediately noticed the girly furnishing. Clearly your parents were divorced. I sympathized, mine were too. Still I kept it quiet, because there was nothing like divorce to lighten up a mood. You had one of those fancy television sets. You know the ones with the enormous flat screens and thousands of buttons that simply cannot be pressed. So we watched TV. One of those reality shows that aren't of much relevance to us - yet still managed to come up in almost all conversations- was on. I suppose it was nice. You offered me a soda, which I gladly accepted. I watched as the beads of perspiration traveled down my hands as it got warmer. We sat there a while longer, not too close though, our knees rarely touching. All too soon it was time for me to go home. We exchanged goodbyes, and off I went. No promise of future meetings, exchange of phone numbers, or even e-mails. This was nothing special I thought. All we really wanted was to be friends.


I was woken up by the moon. Despite all my attempts to re-ignite our relationship, nothing worked. The deep-seated hatred you had developed for me couldn’t be reversed. Not even by the pills or the warm milk and cookies. F***. Could we ever mend this broken friendship, sleep?


I strolled down my neighborhood. It was a Sunday, and a lazy one at that. I walked around aimlessly until I heard a beeping horn behind me. Curiosity got the best of me and so I turned around. There you were, tucked inside your silver car and offering me a ride. I took it. Maybe because I wanted to see you again or possibly because of a lack of anything more interesting to do. Will I ever know? We chit chatted for a while about the weather, family and even current events. Soon the conversation wore out, and there was nothing left to say. I kept thinking, trying to re-ignite the exchange (I noticed you did too) but it never worked. Words can be hurtful, but somehow your silence managed to be even more so. We reached my house and you kissed my cheek. Goodbye. I was out the car and inside my house in seconds.


At night is when you really notice how many languages your house can speak. The pipes clanking. The walls shifting. The floor boards creaking. The furniture screaming. An unattainable slumber.


Time allegedly passed and we kept sporadically hanging out. You dated other girls and I assume I dated other guys, yet somehow in the midst of it all, we kept running into each other. I figured it was destiny and not coincidence. Didn’t it all mean the same thing then? We didn't quite understand what was going on between us, and so we left it at that. We liked to pretend labels didn't define us, but without them, I felt lost at sea. No land or compass in sight. So label us, I always thought. Could you, please?


The bed sheets shifted as I remembered it all. I went through it in my head and prayed to God that it was real. Could it be real? Insomnia and my reality blurred as I stared at the clock about to strike 2 AM. Through sleep I’ll be drifted to a parallel universe, I always thought while I lied in bed. There all that mattered would be you. Sleep. You. Oh, you...


We went shopping. I took you to that Macy’s department store near your house and in one way or another we ended up in the hat section. Rows upon rows of them were lined against the walls. We goofed around, tried a few on. Then you picked out a hat, the one I had in all seriousness been eying, and placed it on my head. You held my hand and took me to the cash register. You bought it for me. There it was my label.


As you walked me home I felt happy. You put your arm around me, giving me a thrill. Realizing I didn’t know in which side I stood made me anxious. Was all of this real or was I again confusing dreams with reality, like I had so many times before?