Eyes wide shut
Richard Alderton is desperate for sleep but reaches for the bottle instead
The faint sound wafted gently through the half open crack in my doorway: “ii-aar.” What was that? Was I dreaming? What time was it? Most importantly, if I ignored it for long enough, would it go away? Unable to answer any of these questions to my satisfaction, I did the only thing one can in these situations: I rolled over and went back to sleep.
“II - AAR!” The noise had summoned up the courage (or impertinence) to grow louder and warned that it was not going to go quietly into the night. I eventually conceded that, if I was to get any more sleep before dawn, I would need to investigate. I rolled out of bed, with large, invisible lead weights still hanging from my eyelids, hoping that if I kept them closed sufficiently, I would be able to get back into bed without properly waking up at all.