My stomach dropped as I heard a scream in the distance. I didn’t know where I was, it seemed like an abandoned lot in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by thick trees. The place seemed like a figment of my imagination yet all too real at the same time. I screamed with all my might but it was as if my voice went nowhere, like it was trapped within the confines of my mouth.
I was six years old when I first had this dream and it became a recurring nightmare from there on. A year later, when I woke up screaming for my mother once again as the nightmare played in my head, she came running and tried to calm me down as usual. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I talked her ear off. At some point, my mother told me I had to fall asleep, it had been too late. I cried and told her I couldn’t because I was scared of having another nightmare. So she went to the bookshelf in my room, and grabbed “Alice in Wonderland” off of it. She read it to me, trying her best to do different voices for the characters. It was funny and calming and before I knew it, I dozed off in the middle of her storytelling. The dreams I had after that were of the Cheshire cat, and the Mad Hatter.
That was only the beginning of what became a nightly ritual for me. You see, I had nightmares very often and once my parents figured out the fact that reading a book before going to bed helped with the dreams, they had me read a few pages every night. I didn’t have a problem with this, because I liked reading books either way. They did indeed help me, for instead of nightmares, I began to dream of Narnia, Hogwarts, elves and hobbits amongst other things. So, I made it a habit of mine to read before going to sleep.
Eventually, there accumulated piles of books on my nightstand, for this routine only made my affinity for reading stronger. I read all kinds of books because of it, except for obviously the kind that were basically nightmare fuel, like horror novels. I never realised how attached I was to my nightly routine of reading until I was packing for college and realised I would not be able to take as many books as I wanted. As I’m writing this I look at the pile (if you can even call it that) of just three books that are on my desk next to my bed and feel a wave of sadness come over me because of it.
I’m at a point in my life where reading before bed has become a personal ritual for me. Let me describe to you how I’ve brought this ritual with me even to college. To set the scene, the room is usually quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner. This is one of the only times I don’t feel the desperate need to have my phone in my immediate line of sight. I’m all cosy and suddenly it’s like I’m right back at home. The activity of being curled up in my bed with a book in my hand during odd hours of the night, is sacred to me. It’s one of the only things that gave me comfort during the first few days of college. This one habit made it so that I never went into a reading slump. Whenever I felt like I was remotely bored of the activity, I took refuge in the familiar and comforting world of Harry Potter or Percy Jackson. If you’re somebody who really wishes to get into reading but can’t be consistent with it, or somebody who can’t find the motivation for it, trust me, just reading a few pages everyday before bed is a great way to get into it. Also, it’s just so much more beneficial to partake in an activity like reading instead of doomscrolling on your phone in bed when you can’t sleep.