I must go to sleep now, however bleary-eyed and drained I may be. For a week now, back trouble has kept me up at night, so my sleep cycle is badly awry, and I am determined to reset it. This is especially true since last night’s, um, event.
warning: vague spoilers ahead for The Ring
It occurred to me the other night as I was finally drifting off, the TV quietly burbling in the background, that children of the 1970s and 1980s were the first generation exposed to the horror movie motif of scary thing escapes the television to get you. Poltergeist is a classic example, but there were others.
My current state of twitching, shuddering sleep deprivation is no doubt a direct result of that train of thought. As I was falling asleep last night, an image from The Ring appeared in my mind (and therefore in my bedroom, of course). Every creak of the house was the scary thing from the tv creeping slowly up to the bed; the gentle fluttering of my exhausted legs muscles was the fleeting touch of its dead fingertips before it struck.
When a friend and I half-reluctantly saw The Ring a year ago, I was sheepish about my alarm; I am more abashed to admit that last night’s visitation so alarmed me that, after a painfully long session of resistance, I turned on the light and the tv, only falling asleep as the dawn broke. So, here I am, a week into my sleep deprivation experiment, my mind jagged and blank, plying myself with coffee, ice water, and the internet in a valiant effort to stay awake until nightfall.