Sleepwalking Past Hope

I sighed as I slipped my weary feet into the slip-on Vans. I tugged my dark blue pea coat on and tucked my book underneath my arm. It’s Three in the morning and I can’t sleep. It was nothing new to me. I headed out my parents house and onto the empty street. The cold air put a slight jump in my step as I rushed down the block. The air in Finland was cold this time of year.

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and checked my messages; none. No surprise. My social life is dead and gone. Thanks to rigorous work and college after that, I have little time to dedicate to chasing after friends and keeping up with a boyfriend.

So here I am, once again, engaging in my nightly ritual. A walk down to Joe’s Café, read for a few hours, drink half a pot of coffee, then stumble back home. I’d demolished the college library, reading one book after the other.

“Hey Martha.” I greeted the waitress the second I entered the door. She was in her mid-forties, her sandy brown hair was usually coiled into a tight bun.

She smiled, “Why hello Emma. Can’t sleep again?” She asked as she filled a burly man’s empty coffee cup.

“Nope, can you get me some decaf?” I said as I made my way to my usual booth.

I’m in my junior year of college, working on a Bachelors Degree then starting my Masters. I slid into the booth, the aqua colored faux leather cover of the seats were worn from years of use.

“You poor child. It must be scary to live alone in that big old house.” She said as she made her way to me with a pot of coffee and coffee cup in tow.

“Not really, I’m used to it. I just wish I could sleep.” I said as I watched her pour the black liquid into the white cup.

“Well, how’s school? Meet any cute boys?” She winked and nudged my arm with hers.

“I’m beginning to think I repel them.” The sarcastic tone in my voice made for a decent veil but it didn‘t hide my loneliness well enough.

“You hush. It certainly isn’t because you’re ugly. I think they’re intimidated.” Her motherly instinct took over as she rushed around the café picking up remnants of meals devoured by truckers, night workers, nurses and other blue collar people.

“Men won’t ever admit it but they most certainly are intimidated by intelligent women.” She continued as she piled dirty dishes into the bin.

I smiled at the compliment but failed to acknowledge that she was right. I cracked the hardcover book open and the smell of the library flooded my senses. I was instantly comforted by the familiar smell. I pulled the pack of cigarettes from my coat pocket, pulled one out and lit it. The comforting smoke filled my lungs.

And there I would be for the rest of the night. Smoking, reading and sipping coffee, occasionally Martha and I would strike conversation, but more often than not I sat quiet and alone.

“Emma, it’s almost six. You should get home.” Martha said from behind the counter.

Soon the morning commuters would turn this currently empty café into a social hotspot. I nodded and closed my book. I put the cigarettes back in my pocket, paid for the coffee and tipped generously. I pulled my iPod out of my pocket, put the headphones in my ears and headed out the door.

My life isn’t complicated by relationships. It’s fairly simple. I work for my professor, go to school, come home, and then I’m alone. It’s simpler that way. I’ve become a hermit of sorts, cramped up in my house listening to music, reading, doing homework, playing music or writing like a mad man. It’s the life of an artist or should I say, the life of someone who gave up hope.

I walked in my house, the hardwood floors shined from years of careful maintenance. I painted the walls red through the entire house except for the bedrooms. I hung my coat on the rack and trudged upstairs. I stopped in the hallway and turned the stereo on. The noise filled the house with Howard Sterns rude comments. He bore an unfiltered mind, I appreciated the raw honesty.

I wandered into the bathroom.

“Good lord, Emma. You need to see a doctor about that insomnia.” I told myself as I examined the dark circles under my eyes. I swept my dark brown hair into a low ponytail then left the bathroom and went into the bedroom.

I set my alarm clock for ten then laid on top of the blankets, covered up with a throw and fell into a deep sleep.

”Hello beautiful.” A deep voice called to me. I was in a clearing in the forest, completely surrounded by trees.

I slowly turned around, “Where are you?”

“Right here.” He said then stepped out of the forest.

His handsome face looked as if he had been etched from granite. He wore a button-up shirt, the sleeves were sloppily rolled up, and regular jeans. He was almost a foot taller than me but I wasn’t intimidated. In fact, I felt safe.

I turned my head to the side as I watched him step closer and closer to me. No fear rose in me, not an ounce, as he placed his unfamiliar hand on my cheek.

“I’ve missed you, Emma.” He said as he stroked my face with his thumb.

I went to speak but the only thing that rose from my lungs was an annoying beeping noise. I wanted with everything in me to say something to make him stay. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, though I never even knew him.

I cleared my throat and went to speak but the beeping noise escalated through the forest.

He just smiled a peaceful smile, “It’s time to wake up, Emma.”

And just like that the dream was over. I smacked the alarm clock with all my might. The beeping ceased. I closed my eyes as tight as I could and tried to reclaim the dream but it was dead. I groaned and threw the blanket back.

Today is not my day.