Confessions of an Insomniac


I was such an awful person when I was twelve years old. I can’t believe I told that seven-year old boy who lived next door to me that the Boogie Man lived at the end of our block, and that if he didn’t give me a dollar to give to him he would come into his room late at night and take him away. I mean who does that? If that wasn’t bad enough I denied the whole thing when his parents came over to talk to mine because their son refused to go to bed. I am sure Hell has a special place for me.

I wasn’t too nice of a guy at sixteen either. I talked a buddy of mine who worked at a printing shop into letting me use the copiers there to make counterfeit back stage passes to local music events. That wasn’t even the worse part. I only wanted them to give out to girls so they would make out with my friends and I. I only did it a dozen times or so, but still. Not a very nice thing to do at all.

Then there was the time I talked Jimmy McGuire into hitting the vice principal with a water balloon at our high school graduation. I told him that a bunch of us guys were going to hide water balloons under our gowns and when he got up on stage to speak we were all going to throw them at him. The poor kid just wanted to be a part of our group. I’ll never forget the look on his face when I gave him the signal and he was the only one who stood up and hit the guy right in the chest soaking his freshly pressed three-piece suit. In my defense Jimmy did tell on me for ditching school in the third grade. It just took me nine years to get even. But still.

Oh and there was Jenny Coleman. I stole her homework out of her cubby hole in kindergarten and she got in trouble in front of the entire class for not having it. I just like her so much and wanted something she had touched. Was that such a bad thing?

I wonder what it would have been like to be in Vietnam. Stuck in some fox hole somewhere in the jungle. Covered in mud as the rain poured down upon my head. Trying to stay as quiet as possible. Waiting for the enemy to make its presence known. Scared and afraid so far from home.

I wonder what Hell is going to be like. If they actually do have a place there waiting for me like Joey Somers’s father told me. He really hated me after I talked Joey into taking his dad’s truck so I could go see my girlfriend. Then he wrapped in around a telephone pole two blocks from his house.

I wonder what would happen to me if I lost my job. I have been there so long now I’m not sure I can remember how to do anything else. Who would want to hire a man past his prime who has lost his hair and has no real education. Would McDonald’s even want me?

I hope that at least one of my children makes a good living.

Is it too late to go back to school?

I wonder if I’ll lose my mind like my mother did, and my grandmother. Does it only run in the women of my family or am I at risk too? I wonder how it feels to know your thoughts are slipping. Is it scarier than being all alone in a fox hole in a war-torn country?

Who will take care of me?

Why is the furnace making that sound? It’s not suppose to sound like that. It’s two degrees outside, what if it gives out? How will I keep the kids warm? Who is going to come out this late at night to repair it? What if it can’t be repaired?

Vacation is coming up in six months. That should be fun. Expensive but fun. I hope everyone has a good time.

I just want my kids to know they are loved. I wish I could express it more. I wonder why I struggle with that.


I wonder why I never think about any of these things until it’s 3:30 in the morning and I am trying to fall asleep.

I am going to be tired again at work.

And tired when I get home.

But wide awake again once I crawl into bed.

I could have taken a sleeping pill four hours ago, but that would still make me tired all day.


I wonder if ZzzQuil actually works for anybody.

Okay try not to think.

Great now my leg itches. Now my shoulder. I wonder if I itch because of the detergent I use in my wash.

Okay stop thinking! Considerate damn it!

One…breathe…two breathe.


Jenny sure was cute back in kindergarten with her red curly hair and her freckles. She never would give me the time of day. I’m glad I took her home work.

Four, Five. Damn I forgot to breathe!

I think I have to use the bathroom.

Nope false alarm.

I wonder why it feels like my skin is crawling.

Great now I am thirsty. I should have gotten a glass of water when I got up to not use the bathroom.

I wonder if that McGuire kid still hates me.




About paulsdahlman

Born in Southern California, raised on the road and now growing roots in New England. I am on the journey of my lifetime. May the footprints I leave behind form the words to my story.
This entry was posted in Enlightenment, Life experience, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Confessions of an Insomniac

  1. Wow, know this, you aren’t the only one. I think too much in the evening as well. That’s because I’m NOT preoccupied with the “routines” of my daily life so my mind is free to think about those things that I question deep inside, regardless of the depth of my thought. I’m sorry you are tired during the day, but I am glad your head is racing with these types of thoughts. That means you are aware, awake, wanting to really live your life. A peaceful easy feeling I wish for you right now – oh, and a good nights sleep tonight! Sheri


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