âopen whenâ letters from my muse.
âȘ: Open when you canât sleep
( ` she, better than anyone, knows of sleepless nights and the draining effects of going day in and day out without a wink of sleep; and so sheâs drawn into empathy when she overhears the other talking about recent issues with sleeping patterns that run amok. as silly as it seems, yooa wants to help â but the only help sheâs able to constitute is a letter forged out of an affinity for the poor soul )
When you canât sleep, read me.Â
I bet youâve counted sheep and stars and jars and all that is to count and if maths isnât the lullaby that lulls you into dreams void of plus signs and measurements, and iâm sure that this is exactly what you need.Â
Itâs a story that helps me when i canât sleep and i know itâs childish but it warms your heart and makes your lids heavy. I hope it can ease you off to dream land, so here goes.
Once upon a night, there was a little Robin that could not fall asleep. All night did he toss and turn in his makeshift nest; deep breaths, pillow fluffing and even warm milk couldnât do the trick! Eventually, sitting on the edge of his nest, the little Robin looks out at the sleeping world below. âEveryone else in the whole entire town is asleep. I can see a dog sleeping in itâs kennel, and I can see a cat curled up on a mat and even those humans are all snug in bed â none of their lights are on at all! Every single soul is asleep except me!â The complaints of the little Robin do not go unheard, and to his surprise, he hears a hoot in reply. âIâm not sleeping!â Says a rather large old Owl. âI do not sleep when the moon is up, only when there is sun. For when itâs dark thatâs when I fly, looking for late night snacks to keep me going.âÂ
Perching upon a branch near the little Robinâs nest, the old Owl peers at the Robin. âWell, you donât seem to be a bird of the night â what are you doing up?â âI canât sleep, and oh how I wish I could! The night is scary and if I donât rest up I wonât be able to catch my morning worms.â Sympathetic was the old Owl, and so he sits for a while, hooting in deep concentration in order to find a solution for the poor Robin. âIâve got it! Why donât you count sheep â the sheep in the field over there!â A plan that is brilliant in theory, the two birds set off â Robin, to count his sheepâs and Owl, to catch his mice.Â
Unfortunately the little Robin didnât anticipate how difficult it would be. Each time heâd count up to three, theyâd run off, leaving him in confusion. As hard as the poor bird tried, he just could not keep track of the birds that heâd counted and those he had not. âHold still, hold still!â But these were not the same sort of sheep you count in your mind â these walking clouds refused to listen. âThis is no fun, no fun at all. I think I shall return home.â
On his flight back, he spots a small herd of cows. Their movement was limited and the little Robin was ecstatic to find farm animals that he could count! But why were they awake, he wondered? Donât cows sleep at nightâŠActually, why were the sheep awake as well? Hed have to find out some other time, because for now he was too busy counting the cows, circling above. âOne, two, three, four, fiveâŠ.sâfive. Five? Is that it⊠There are not enough cows to count. I canât go to sleep counting five cows.â So he stops, heading back to hid nest.Â
The little Robinâs wings were getting very tired from all the flying around. He started to yawn. âIâve been up all night. The sun is starting to rise now and I couldnât possibly  fly another inch!â His nest was high up on the tallest tree, but his wings did not want to flap anymore. So, he flew down to the ground and sat next to a rock. âIâll just sit here for a few minutes and rest and then fly back to my nest in a bit.â No sooner had he sat down than he fell fast asleep.Two cows came walking past â number two and number four.. âLook at that little bird. He looks like heâs been up all night, poor little fellow.â Said number four. âI thought Robinâs slept at night?â Asked number two. The little Robin snored away, not hearing a word they said.
Goodnight, sleep tight, little robin.Â
( ` placing the letter upon the otherâs bag, she makes herself scarce in seconds. yooa rubs her eyes; a childish habit which had never been broken. her scrawl was small, neat and her wrist ached. at second glance, it seemed to be a foolish idea. the story probably wouldnât have the same affect it did for the naive-minded yooa. but at least she tried. )
