The Nocturnal Awakenings of Mr, Ellis

The tick-tocks become booming explosions in an insomniac’s clock. Mr. Ellis tried to keep his eyes closed, his fatigue demanded it, but his condition would not have any of it. The room grew larger, the space he occupied seemed smaller, and his pupils crept to the corner of his eyes to peek outside the window praying that daylight would soon arrive.

It had been a week since he had kept normal hours of sleep. It had been a week since he last dreamt. His last dream was not so much a dream as it was a memory. The Ellis family had been in a horrific car accident just four months prior to Mr. Ellis’ insomnia began. In those four months, he had been able to sleep with the help of prescription drugs. Under the advisement of his physician, Mr. Ellis began to wane the amount and frequency of which he took the medication. It was just as well. The few times he fell asleep of his own accord only resulted in nightmares.

Reaching over, Mr. Ellis gently tugged on the chain turning on the lamp that sat humbly on his dresser. He carefully lifted his head and saw that it was 2:30 in the morning. His hands balled into fists and rubbed the deep sockets of his eyes tenderly. With a yawn, he pulled the dresser drawer open and pulled out a book and started to read. One hour later, he was still exhausted but his body would not relent. Mr. Ellis took the sheets off his legs and swung them around slowly to the ground, careful not to wake his sleeping wife.

Mr. Ellis found his way through the murky hallways that his dilated eyes could show him. He plopped down onto the sofa in the television room and with a click and a buzz the T.V. turned on and emanated its hauntingly cold blue light. Nothing was on. It didn’t matter. A few minutes passed and he heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching. She stood at the doorway looking at him, worried.

“That would be your wife who stood at the door?” Dr. Howard, the psychiatrist, asked.

“Of course, who else would it be?” Mr. Ellis replied derisively. The doctor did not answer, just scratched notes into the pad of paper on his lap. Finally, Dr. Howard looked up at Mr. Ellis.

“You say that these nocturnal awakenings started once you discontinued use of the medication that your physician gave you.”

“What does this have to do with my wife?”

“Nothing, but you did say that the visions of your daughter began on that first night that you couldn’t sleep.”

“Began and ended on that first day. And I’ve told you before: I know it’s not a dream.”

“I’m not saying that it was. Hallucinations aren’t uncommon symptoms of insomnia.” Dr. Howard placed his notes down and took off his glasses. His eyes began to glint with a look of concern. “How are you doing, Mr. Ellis? You’ve been off painkillers and sleeping pills for a few days and I was wondering if you remembered the accident.”

“How could I forget? Losing a daughter is the worst kind of hell. And for that moment that I saw her, I thought I could just reach over and hold her in my arms again. Now, I just wish and wait for death to reunite us.”

“When you think about that night, how do you feel?”

“Well, my wife doesn’t talk much.”

“I didn’t ask about your wife. I asked how YOU feel about the accident.”

Mr. Ellis didn’t respond for the longest time. He looked at the floor as if looking for something. His eyes darted to the ceiling and then everywhere else that wasn’t Dr. Howard’s eyes.

“I,” Mr. Ellis finally responded, “I can’t help but feel infuriated.”

“Infuriated with whom?”

“Myself. God. The world, in general. I have every right to be angry.”

“That you do,” Dr. Howard took a thoughtful pause, “Time’s up for today.”

“Do you think I’ll ever get to sleep normally again?”

“It’ll take some time, Mr. Ellis. You’ve been through a traumatic event in your life and you’re just going to have to trust the process.”

“Are we headed in the right direction, at least?”

“I assure you, that you’re doing much better than when we first started,” Dr. Howard commented as he led Mr. Ellis to the door, “But we still have a long way to go, so I expect to see you here same time next week.”

Dr. Howard went to his desk and reviewed the notes that he had taken in the past hour. He exhaled a frustrated breath as he took of his heavy glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. The doctor turned on his computer and opened a file named “The Nocturnal Awakenings of Mr. Ellis.” The progress of his last patient was meticulously recorded over the last four months; since the accident. The good doctor added today’s notes.

“The findings of today’s session indicate that Mr. Ellis no longer suffers from delusions about his daughter. It has been a week since he last saw her apparition, which coincides with his recent discontinuation of his medication,” he wrote, “His depression, as was initially suspected, was rooted in his repressed anger, which he acknowledged today. Furthermore, today’s meeting indicated the first time since the tragedy that Mr. Ellis acknowledged the death of his daughter.

“However, it should be noted that Mr. Ellis does not seem to entirely recollect his condition while he was on prescription drugs. The patient does not remember that he was in complete denial over the death of his nine-year-old daughter for the first month after the accident. I may need to contact his primary physician in order to confirm that this side effect is psychological in nature and not a response to any of the medication prescribed.

“A big step was taken today. He still suffers from insomnia, though recognition of his own daughter’s death will help him reach a healthy mental state,” Dr. Howard looked through his notes and again.

“As much progress we had made today,” he continued to type, “today had its setbacks. There is also indication that there is still great work to be done. Mr. Ellis has taken crucial steps in the grieving process as far as his daughter’s death. But it seems that his psyche stubbornly resists the next step. While he has learned to grieve for the loss of his daughter, Mr. Ellis has yet to recognize that he was the only survivor of the accident several times mentioning that his wife is still with him.”