Pick-a-Stalker Program

As part of UC Davis' Pick-a-Stalker Program, I get to pick the people that will watch me sleep. It's all part of a program designed to make creeps mainstreamed into normal society, and the premise is that, if we know the people that will be creeping us out, maybe they will be less creepy.

Or, I am going to the hospital for a Sleep Study tonight. At this point, I have lost track, because I am soooo flipping tired.

You see, I, along with my fellow spoonies, don't sleep well.  I look at the clock approximately 10 times per night.  So, I turned the clock.  Now I wake 10 times a night, but I have no idea when I wake, because the clock is turned.  

I have covered the alarm system keypad with black paper.  I flip my cell phone over so that the blinking "someone sent you an email" light does not wake me (it used to).  I make sure the room is as dark as possible, and I do everything I can to have a good night's sleep. But I don't.  They finally sent me to a neurologist, who got to hear my life story in 20 minutes, and then decided maybe a sleep study would be a good tool to figure out why I don't sleep. all because I said I snore.  I also said that I grind my teeth, smack my mouth, and talk in my sleep, but whatevs. The snoring is the issue, in case I have apnea.

So, let me get this straight-I don't sleep well.  So I go on down to the local germ-infested hospital, park in a large structure that costs money, pay a co-pay to some overworked imbecile, change into my "jammies" which I normally don't wear, hook up to a ton of wires and circle thingies, and sleep in a strange bed in a strange room, while people watch me from another room through the security-type cameras.  Sounds relaxing, right? 

I just hope the intercoms are working right so that I get to hear "code blue-room 2645, stat" all night-it's like a bonus, where I get to pretend that I am living on the set of "House" for the night.  Now if only I could have some strange health problems that no one can figure out....oh, wait....

To combat my sleep problems, I have tried numerous things.

• I bought a Sleep Number bed-truly one of the most remarkable inventions of the 21st century, just after toilet paper and Nordstrom.  
• I covered everything that emits light in my room
• I take relaxing herbs at bedtime
• I tried Melatonin, a supplement that helps adjust the circadian clock in your body when it is out of whack.

Let's pause for a moment to talk about melatonin.   I have taken it off and on, with mixed reviews.  I DO seem to sleep better.  But.  And this is a big butt---my dreams when I take it are extremely vivid, realistic and memorable.

For instance, this morning I woke up, and my reality seemed to be:
I had just met my husband's family for the first time, and they were a very large black family.  They were very inviting, but they were a little hesitant about my history in the juvenile detention facility. You can't blame them, but they didn't want to hear my story about why I had spent most of my youth in Juvie.  This is why...
When I was younger, I was helping a friend walk to the car repair place.  It was night, and there weren't any street lights in the area of town we were in.  Eventually, we lost track of each other, and I wandered down a street, looking for open repair shops. I finally found one, but my friend was not there. I asked around, and a woman that ran the counter had seen her further down the road, and she walked me down to where she saw her go.  Apparently, my friend (who looks like a friend I had in high school) had decided to spend the night in a tree, nestled in the branches.  I tried to join her, but I was concerned about the quality of sleep I would get, so I encouraged her to jump down so we could find another place to stay.  Just then, there seemed to be a party going on in a back yard, so we joined them.  They were all very nice to us, being new to the area.  Then, a group of stereotypical-looking thugs showed up, who also turned out to be remarkably nice.
This is where things get ugly.  All of a sudden, there is a fight and some shooting-I remember two different weapons being fired.  One of the "thugs" gave me a large stack of twenties, and sent me on my way.
Things get fuzzy at this point, and next thing I know, I am awake in a juvenile facility.  I have a small cubby hole with a bed and a triangular shelf for my belongings.  My cell phone and some old donuts are my possessions.  I am not allowed to have a phone charger, though so things are rough, and I have to turn the phone off after each text. Also, the facility seems to be in the middle of some sort of race war, and my fellow pals are getting picked off by people on the other side of the fence.
I bide my time on my little cubby, and try to get some sleep. I know that I have been here for a long time, but I'm not sure how long.
All of a sudden, my real mother barges in and throws her crazy child on me.  We gather up my stuff including a bucket of paint, and take off.
They take me to a restaurant, where I try in vain to get gluten-free pot stickers.  My "real" mom had abandoned me many years before, and wants to get to know her daughter, but she isn't very nice. She even takes my wrapper-less pot sticker.  Somehow, I ditch her, along with my child (a 2-year-old Princess) that has just appeared, in search of this guy named Mike that raised me.
Along the way, I lose my child, but don't seem to notice. I then get caught up with some bad people again, and sneak into a house for protection. After the bad people go away, I manage to find my way to a family dinner at my husband's family's home. They are all very nice, and serve a good meal.  I keep nudging my husband, though because it has been a long day and I am tired.  Finally, we leave, and I can't find my cell phone.  Luckily, I remember that I have not upgraded yet, so I plan to call Verizon as soon as I get home to get the new Droid X2, and I remember hoping I had updated my backup on the computer recently, because I know I have to call in my Girl Scout cookie order soon, and I can't do it without all the information stored in my phone.


Yep, 12 hours later, this is how vivid my dreams are.

No thank you-I'll take my chances with Ambien, thankyouverymuch.  I hear people do crazy things like sleep-eat and sleep-shop while on it.  At least now, I will get wonderful boots by mail randomly.  It will be like Christmas every few weeks!

Wish me luck-G'Night!