I don't sleep well. I've had insomnia off and on since childhood, and during a particularly memorable stretch at age 11, I stayed up for three days watching Ronco Electric Food Dehydrator infomercials, cheating at choose-your-own-adventure books, and roller skating around my driveway at all hours of the morning. This summer, enough was enough, and I finally gave prescription sleep aids a go. My doctor prescribed Ambien, and warned me that I shouldn't take this particular medication until I was physically in bed, as it was so quick to kick in. She also mentioned that people who take Ambien and try to stay awake sometimes experience mild hallucinations. So being the model patient that I am, I tucked myself into bed, took my first dose, and turned off the light.
I was a bit anxious, so although I'd followed all of my doctor's suggested relaxation preparations, I found sleep difficult to come by. I let my eyes adjust to the darkness and I stared around my room, following cracks in the ceiling as I waited for the drug to kick in. As my eyes panned across my bedroom, I noticed that some of the items on my nightstand were moving. My lamp, my Japanese music box, my l'Occitane lotion, my alarm clock. They were swaying and dancing in the dim moonlight, and eventually began singing to me. Yes folks, I was hallucinating. Hard core. My nightstand guardians continued their very "Be Our Guest" song and dance number until I drifted off to sleep, and I remembered hoping that this soothing animatronic lullaby would become a nightly tradition.
The next few times I took Ambien before bed, I tried to stay awake in the hopes that Lumiere and Cogsworth would make another appearance. This led to a number of unforgettable moments in my apartment (which are actually sort of forgettable, since the Ambien made my memory quite foggy). They involved: falling asleep in the fetal position face down on my couch (see first photo for reference), placing affectionate phone calls to the people in my life that I love oh so very much (way more extreme than a drunk dial), and falling ass over teakettle into my bathtub and struggling about like a beetle on its back. Why do I share this story? Because I'm still obsessing over this editorial from last January's
Vogue Girl Korea. Not only because it's hauntingly beautiful, but because, girl, I've been there.
I don't sleep well. I've had insomnia off and on since childhood, and during a particularly memorable stretch at age 11, I stayed up for three days watching Ronco Electric Food Dehydrator infomercials, cheating at choose-your-own-adventure books, and roller skating around my driveway at all hours of the morning. This summer, enough was enough, and I finally gave prescription sleep aids a go. My doctor prescribed Ambien, and warned me that I shouldn't take this particular medication until I was physically in bed, as it was so quick to kick in. She also mentioned that people who take Ambien and try to stay awake sometimes experience mild hallucinations. So being the model patient that I am, I tucked myself into bed, took my first dose, and turned off the light.
I was a bit anxious, so although I'd followed all of my doctor's suggested relaxation preparations, I found sleep difficult to come by. I let my eyes adjust to the darkness and I stared around my room, following cracks in the ceiling as I waited for the drug to kick in. As my eyes panned across my bedroom, I noticed that some of the items on my nightstand were moving. My lamp, my Japanese music box, my l'Occitane lotion, my alarm clock. They were swaying and dancing in the dim moonlight, and eventually began singing to me. Yes folks, I was hallucinating. Hard core. My nightstand guardians continued their very "Be Our Guest" song and dance number until I drifted off to sleep, and I remembered hoping that this soothing animatronic lullaby would become a nightly tradition.
The next few times I took Ambien before bed, I tried to stay awake in the hopes that Lumiere and Cogsworth would make another appearance. This led to a number of unforgettable moments in my apartment (which are actually sort of forgettable, since the Ambien made my memory quite foggy). They involved: falling asleep in the fetal position face down on my couch (see first photo for reference), placing affectionate phone calls to the people in my life that I love oh so very much (way more extreme than a drunk dial), and falling ass over teakettle into my bathtub and struggling about like a beetle on its back. Why do I share this story? Because I'm still obsessing over this editorial from last January's Vogue Girl Korea. Not only because it's hauntingly beautiful, but because, girl, I've been there.
1 comment:
Haha lets do Ambien this weekend, maybe a shot or two of whiskey first?
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