Sleep of the Righteous

By now, the entire apartment building knows my son will not go to sleep. "You've got to discipline your son!" my wife said as she reached for a qualude. I put on my robe, unplugged the TV, and then lugged it over to my son's room. I nearly tripped. My wife didn't budge. I kicked the diaper bag off his dresser and set the TV down. I turned on a DVD and pulled the crib over to where my son could get a good look. He stood up, and I rubbed his back. The crying stopped. I sat down in the beanbag chair and watched my son absorb himself in the flashing screen. I then closed my eyes and let my mind drift. The room and the heavy smell of baby formula began to lift. The baby powder too, and all things white and comforting lifted from my mind. My lungs opened up, and I was running through a forest. A clean blue mist settled over the ground. The sound of water led me past the mossy trees and to the entrance of a cave. A shot of air gushed from the opening and then drew itself back in, as if the earth itself were breathing. My head was light as a hummingbird. I floated deep into the cave and down to a lagoon. And there I met the woman from accounting I would bang on my lunch break tomorrow. Vindicated.