Snore! Snore! Snore!
I stare sleeplessly at the bunk above my head. I have ended up in a hostel in Rotterdam, as you do on the average Thursday night, and it is a funky little place. Very basic, but not a mouse in sight, and I’ve had fun hanging out with cool traveller dudes from all over the world in the very studenty bar. Sleep, however, is proving to be something of a challenge in a dorm containing dozens of beds.
If it was just the snoring, it might be easier to get used to it, the way you can eventually adjust to the overly loud ticking of a clock that’s been keeping you awake. However, in this sort of environment, all sorts of factors come into play. Like people rolling in at regular intervals, just back from a night out.
Crash! Bang! Clatter!
Snore! Snore! Snore!
Then you’ve got the mattresses, which are plastic-covered things that squeak and creak and groan every time someone as much as twitches in her sleep. When the girl above me turns over, it sounds like the building is in the process of crashing down around my ears.
Creak! Squeak! Groan!
Crash! Bang! Clatter!
Snore! Snore! Snore!
I sigh softly to myself and cuddle closer to Eeyore, who seems unaffected by the Armageddonesque noise level in the room. I close my eyes and try to imagine I’m completely alone. I manage to enter a state that could be described as a light doze, but am disturbed by a man stealthily entering the girls only dorm – my bed is right beside the door, so I watch as he creeps past and appears to be inspecting the sleeping figures in the bunks. In my tired state, I can do no more than wonder what he’s doing, and then I forget about him until morning, when I awake to find the place in uproar. Everyone’s babbling about a man, an attack. There are police. They want to talk to anyone who saw anything suspicious, and I find myself being interviewed and identifying the shady-looking guy from the dorm. He is taken away, shouting that he is innocent, and a feeling of Atonement-like panic washes over me as self-doubt creeps in and accuses me of pointing the finger at the wrong person.
Creak! Squeak! Groan!
As the girl above me turns over again and the mattress resumes its earthquake impressions, I wake up with a jump and realise that that last bit was just one of those very “real” dreams. Dazed and confused, I continue my sleepless journey towards morning.
I am desperately in need of a good night’s sleep tonight, you know.
Filed under: confusion, dreams, Fear, fun, hostels, insomnia, Netherlands, night, tiredness | 3 Comments »
