06-26-2009

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     Sweat ran down his face as he shot up in bed, throwing his covers to the floor. Out of breath, Ruben got out of bed only to fall back into bed as his legs wobbled and gave way. Sinking his face in his hands, he tried not to cry. Several deep breaths later, he was beginning to calm down a little.
     "What going on?" Sylvia asked as she placed her hand on his back. "My god, Ruben, your soaked."
     "Yeah, sorry," he whispered.
     "What was it tonight? The same dream or something new?" she asked. She crawled over and off the bed to Ruben's side and knelt on the floor in front of him. Ruben didn't answer her, continuing to focus on his breathing. "It's okay, baby, take your time."
     Ruben was getting tired of waking up like this, waking his wife and causing her to worry about him. It seemed so childish to have nightmares, night terrors, and Ruben hated it. It was time he seriously considered treatment, therapy to understand what was happening and perhaps even why. What he really wanted, though, was just to be able to sleep through the night at least once a week. That would be bliss.
     Twenty odd years of restless sleep had placed budding busts under his eyes, his eye lids hovered at half mast and wrinkles were webbing from the corners of his eyes.
     It wasn't apparent just on his face. His stride was short, his step slow. He was beginning to show a hump due to chronic poor posture; shoulders drooped.
     "How are you doing," Silvia asked.
     "I just," Ruben started to say. "I just want to be able to sleep once in a while."


End Fiction.