Dreaming of a soundless sleep
I now understand why there were times my parents slept in different bedrooms.
A befuddled youngster, concerned that they had “lost the love” between them when my mom was across the hall from my sleeping father, I was reassured that it was only because my father has a terrible habit of snoring loudly and my mom absolutely could not sleep.
Really? You mean to say that snoring can come between a happily married couple? I, of course, wasn’t buying it. It couldn’t be that bad to share a bed with a snorer. A recent decision to move in with my boyfriend has proven me wrong and my mom right — again.
Sure, at first it was something I convinced myself I would get used to. After all, I used to cherish the nights spent cuddled next to him as I would drift off to sleep with a smile on my face and a somber night’s dream. Now three months into living together and that brief “honeymoon-type” phase has ended, with a bedroom across the parking lot of my apartment looking like my only escape to get back to my quiet night’s sleep.
Like a wrecking ball in the night, his snores are most comparable to an F-16 taking off.
Over and over again.
I will shake him awake and tell him to roll over. He apologizes, kisses me good night only to be back at it again one minute later before my eyes can even close.
We’ve tried everything: Nose strips, ear plugs, laying on his stomach, laying on his side, laying upside down with his feet in the air — all to no avail.
“It can’t be that bad,” he always says, truly bewildered at my pestering annoyance and excessive crabbiness in the mornings after another night of tossing and turning. But a recent boy’s trip to Iowa proved him wrong when his friends questioned how I can spend every night with him and that chain saw noise he emits.
Add in the seasonal cold and congestion that comes around this time of year — which just my luck he seems to have caught — and I swear I am on the verge of a sleep-deprivation breakdown at times.
So for now, I guess dreams of soundless sleep will have to do, until some magical creation allows that dream to actually come true.
JESSI PIERCE may be reached at 855-5859 or firstname.lastname@example.org. Follow her on Twitter at twitter.com/jessi_pierce (@jessi_pierce).