day sleeper

Before I set off for England in the summer of 2005, I remember reading in a guide book of some sort that you could tell locals from tourists on the tube based on who was reading and who wasn't. This, of course, is a ridiculously grand generalization that assumes that every English person who uses public transportation does so while reading a book or newspaper. Or that all of those people are even literate in the first place.

At the time, though, I took the advice to heart and always carried reading material with me on the train for my morning and evening commutes. What I quickly learned was that a.) the guide book was a dirty, dirty liar and b.) I am near enough to completely incapable of staying awake in a moving vehicle.

I tried to be a 'local' and read my book on the train for a few days. But inevitably, about five minutes into the train journey, my eyelids would get heavy and my head would start to bob down, my chin hitting my chest and waking me up. So I just gave in. As I recall, I was able to break the pattern only for a short time, while I was enthralled with Pride and Prejudice, which is nothing but a testament to Jane Austen's incredible skills. Because I need to make one thing clear right now. I am not exaggerating about the vehicular narcolepsy.

During my freshman year of college, before I had a car with me at school, I regularly hitched rides with people who lived in Memphis to go home on weekends. I always tried to be a good passenger, to stay awake and chat during the drive, and I usually lasted about half an hour, maybe 45 minutes. Then, bam. Zzzzzz. I have to admit, I always felt like such an idiot for not being able to stay awake and carry on a conversation during a two-and-a-half hour car ride. I have met other people who cannot do this, either, but they are all under the age of four.

Now, I don't fight it. I shove my way into the subway car first in the mornings to make sure I can grab a seat (preferably an end seat, so I can lean), press play on the iPod (a pre-selected list of songs chosen specifically for train napping), close my eyes and let the motion rock me to sleep. Some mornings, I sort of half-way doze, but some mornings (and often in the evenings) I fall into a sleep so deep it disorients me. And on those occasions, I always dream. Sometimes in one 22-minute trip from Journal Square to midtown Manhattan I can have three or four different dreams.

Today, though, I had a very particular kind of dream. It was, um, a dirty dream. And then I woke up. In a train car during morning rush hour, slammed full of people, people who I couldn't help but suspect all somehow telepathically knew what had just been running through my mind. And since I was seated, about four random crotches were staring me straight in the face.

It was kind of awkward.


cheers,
e. cawein