Make Good Art.

-Neil Gaiman

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Insomnia


Insomnia

It began when I was six and wandered into a room where my father was up late, watching The Exorcist. I wanted a glass of water and he didn't realize I was there until I had seen more than I should have. Days later, when I asked my Sunday school teacher if the devil really could live inside of you she said "sometimes." Terrified, I slept in the hallway next to my parents' bedroom every night for two years. I never told anyone why I was so frightened and Mom and Dad--busy working and raising three children--were so tired they never asked. Years later, a Sunday school teacher myself and still sleepless, I finally confessed why I had been so frightened. My mother wrapped her arms around me and stroked my hair. "Oh, Kel," she said. "We never knew."