Camino Stories: Sleep
You might think after walking twenty miles in the sun, up gravely ravines, through muddy pastures, and down steep hard pavement that sleep would come quickly when you lay down at night. For many it did. I was not usually so fortunate. Rooms were stuffy with sweaty clothes and humid air. Dull aches pulsed from my hip to knee to foot and back. I had a slice of bread for a mattress. The worst of it, though, was the snoring.
The lights go out, but not for sleep. The show is just starting, and soon I’ll hear the snorts, toots, horns, ruffles, shuffles, and other sounds people make as they sleep. When the evening’s first chord is struck, my tired mind is ripped from its drift, snapped into a strict attention. I’ve been suddenly and unwillingly tasked with a thorough mental investigation.
