The Teddy Bear Agreement | Updating

4 - night

I wake up with a gasp. The dream is so vivid in my mind that I sit up and push the damp hair out of my line of vision so I can look around and assure myself I'm not at the hospital. The room is strange to me, dark with many boxes stacked around, a single standing fan placed between me and the door and which produces some white noise in the silence of the night. My heart is beating loudly inside my ears, and as I finally come down to the conclusion that I've had a nightmare, my breathing starts to return to normal once more.

Clearing my throat, I reach over for my phone. I haven't put together my bed frame so my mattress is currently on the floor and hence it's easy to simply take a hold of my phone resting next to me. The light is blinding for a couple of seconds, but I manage to see it is currently just past four-thirty in the morning.

After going to sleep at three forty, seeing the short amount of time in which I've been asleep is not ideal.

"Fuck." I sigh, dropping my phone to the side of my head and rubbing the back of my hands against my closed eyes.

This is my nightly routine, Vista Hermosa edition. It's fantastic, I love it. I don't think I can encapsulate how wonderful it is to not be able to get a decent amount of sleep for weeks on end and know that whenever you wake up it's going to be nearly physically impossible to go back to sleep. It's great, ten out of ten would recommend it to anyone who wants to have joy in their life.

There's a street lamp close to my window and its yellow-y glow marks lines across the blinds of my room. Holding my hand up, I let my arm be marked by the light. I'm not sure why I do so but things hardly make much sense after just waking up from a nightmare. A nightmare that I can't seem to remember now that I'm awake, just flashes of the hospital corridors.

Then it hits me.

I sit up once more, looking around the dark square that I now get to call my room. There's no point in searching for it in the middle of the night. There are too many boxes and bags to look through and while I am awake, my body is still sore from moving all the stuff the last few days. Instead, I need to devise a plan that will keep me energized today, otherwise, I'll just fall back to the regular pattern.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

If I was a smart woman I would argue with washing my face this late in the night and would convince myself to lie still and stare at the ceiling all night hoping this will inevitably lead me back to sleep. However, I am not a very smart woman and after another five minutes go by I decide it's time to get up and wash my face in the middle of the night before walking out of the bathroom and into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea.

Yes, I do drink tea when I can't sleep. The British are screaming, but it's not caffeinated so I think I'm still on the sane side of the line.

I set up my electric kettle which I managed to unearth yesterday from one of the kitchen boxes. We've lived in this house for four days and we still have way too many damn boxes to unbox. We could start a YouTube channel at this point.

Opening one of the cabinets, I fish for one of my mugs, and then set to look for the packets of chamomile tea we got at HEB earlier this week. I make mom chamomile tea all the time, it's a bit like a comfort thing.

Kind of like Lancelot.

I hoist myself up on one of the counters and cross my legs, glancing at the living room and all of the boxes still to be open. Maybe it's there, lost in a sea of objects I've yet to open.

There's no way to resist the yawning that takes over me, because, somehow, my body has the audacity of being tired but refuses to let me sleep once I've laid down on my bed. What a bitch. Michelle is probably right, I should go see a doctor and get some pills or some other form of aid. That will at the very least be better than drinking tea and wondering where my teddy bear is, but the thought alone freaks me out.