Idlebones

Why I Can’t Sleep

January 10, 2007 – 2:20

 

 

 

“Hypnos is a gentle and benevolent god who sometimes takes the form of a singing bird, sometimes that of a winged youth or old man. He carries a drinking horn, from which he pours sleep-inducing opium. He is most beloved of the Muses, and his spouse is Pasithea, one of the Charities. Together they have three children, Morpheus, Phobetor, and Phantasus who occupy the dreams of men. Morpheus appears in human form in our dreams, Phobetor as birds and animals, and Phantasus as all the animate objects of our dreams”

Hypnos awoke from his sleep and stretched his arms, feeling the warmth of the sun bathing him through his open window and smiled. Pasithea is still sleeping soundly beside him as he rubs his eyes and turns towards the clock radio beside their bed.

“Dear effing Zeus” he mutters, scrambling out of bed and searching the floor for his clothes. Finding his pantaloons, he stuffs one leg inside, and then hops about the vast royal chamber as he tries to insert the other. His loud swearing awakens his wife, and she yawns irritably, looking over her shoulder with half closed eyes.

“Hyppy, for crying out loud, what on Olympus are you doing??!” she grumbles.

Hypnos, distracted for a moment, loses his balance and tumbles to the floor in a flurry of curses.

“These feckin’ pants have shrunk, you know, I’d swear by Zeus they’ve bloody shrunk” he says from his prone position, now flat on his back on the floor still gripping the waistband of his fine white linen pants.

Pasithea smirks and turns her face back into the warmth of her pillow.

“Well, wear your Chiton, like all the other Gods, for goddness sake”

He pulls them up, finally, arcing on his back and breathing in deeply to fasten the button, before gathering himself to his feet again.

“It’s just these bloody pants have shrunk. They’ll be fine when I’ve worn them in a little”

“Yes dear. I still don’t see why you can’t just wear your Chiton” says Pasithea, a trace of amusement in her tired voice.

Hypnos rolls his eyes and hunts for his shirt.

“It’s just not the fashion these days dear. You don’t want me to look like an old Diety, do you?” he say, throwing loin cloths and sandles over his shoulder as he searches, head first in the cupboard

“No Dear” she mumbles.

Hypnos stands in front of the bedroom mirror and examines himself, holding his stomach in and expanding his chest. “Definitly shrunk. I’ll have those bloody nubiles in the laundry” he thinks.

Pasithea’s muffled voice comes to him again.

“Whats all the fuss anyway? It is Saturday you know” she says sleeply

“Come back to bed”

Hypnos harrumphs.

“And let that bugger get a full nights rest? I don’t think so love” he says under his breath, pulling on his shirt and heading for the door.

In the Vestibule, Hypnos grabs a hand full of black olives and a fist
of bread from a side table and makes his way towards the well that
stood in the centre of the room. Settling his bread on the stone lip
of the well, he spits a pip into the water below, sending tiny ripples
against the wells sides. After a moment, the ripples settle and the
water becomes a silvery blue mirror once more. Impatiently, he dips a
hand into the water and swirls it about.

“Whoa, Hey, What!?!, for crying out loud, I was just coming!” a voice came from
within the now turbulent water.

Hypnos’s son’s annoyed face comes into view, his curly black hair
strangely flattened as he removes the headphones he was wearing. Tiny
guitars and high pitched wailing can be heard for a moment before
Morpheus dips his head and clicks off something out of Hypnos’s
view.

“Where are you Morpheus?” Hypnos bellows, a mouthful of bread
spluttering into the water.

Morpheus steps back from his view, allowing Hypnos to see the dull
grey houses of an Earthly town. Dim lights outlined his sons thin
frame as he bent to examine his bicycle lock. Turning once more to his
father, his face filled the well with a grumpy, teenage sulk.

“Some bloody place in Ireland. Look, about this bike stuff. It’s
bloody freezing down here and…..”

“You know your mother and I’s feelings on this matter, Morph. Don’t start son”
“Yeah, but dad, it’s a bit bloody primitive innit? I mean, I’m a
bloody god for Zeus sake….”

“Don’t have a go at me! Take it to the council of Gods, if you’ve got
a problem with it. It’s not my fault they’ve out sourced everything!”Hypnos Grumbled, eyeing the side table and the rather inviting amphora of wine that stood beside it. It was Saturday, after all, he thought.

“Did you get to number 8 yet?” he said, taking his mind of the wine for a moment

Morpheus screws up his eyes and thinks for a minute.
“Hang on” he says, fumbling inside his heavy coat pocket for
something. He pulls out what looks like a silver box and wipes its
face with his sleeve against what Hypnos could now see was rain. He
chuckles to himself at the sight of it, as his son fumbles with the now
illuminated object.

“Good man Zeus” thought Hypnos to himself, remembering the wager he had had with the
king of the Gods. That fecker at number 8 wanted to go out on his bike
today, and Hypnos had bet Zeus he couldn’t stop him. He had tried to
bet Posiedon and Boreas to whip up a flood and a gale between them,
but they had been far too pissed and leaning against each other for support to care for his encouragements.

Morpheus was still tapping away at his device.

“What in the name of Zeus are you playing at son?” Said Hypnos impatiently.

Morpheus held up an open hand to his father, his head still concentrating on the display
in his other hand.

“Alright, alright, keep your wreath on! Just checking my Palm….” he
said distractedly.

Hypnos raised his eyebrows.
“Checking yer what?”

“My Palm Pilot. God, dad, don’t tell me you don’t have one of these
things? They’re the Bomb, man!” his son replied, shaking his head and
sucking his teeth. “Don’t know where I’d be without it, y’know?”

Hypnos closes his eyes and clenches his teeth. Morpheus and his mortal bloody gadgets.

“Yeah, yeah son, whatever. Did you or did you not get to number 8 this
morning!?!” he said, his words forced between tightened teeth. He
glances towards the amphora again, mentaly licking his lips.

“Oh wait, yeah here it is…” the device bleeped and Morpheus stood up
straight and held it before him triumphantly. Beads of rain were
running down his face.
“Ooh 5 Hundred hours, entered number 8 and relieved
one Owen Ball of his sleep”

He stands to one side and points towards the bike that was leaning miserably against
a lamppost as he read, full plastic bags dangling from its handle bars.

“He had a lot of it” he continued, turning to face his father again.

Hypnos breathes a sigh of relief and allows a smile to appear on his face.
“Good work son. Any problems?”

Morpheus’s mouth turned down at the edges as he rocked his head from
side to side.
“Well, Some girl was there….”

The smile disappears from the God of sleeps face once more.
“Bloody Aphrodite. If I’ve told her once, I’ve told her a million……”

“Naw, it’s okay dad. I took her sleep too” Morpheus chuckles as he points
towards a green coloured bag that hung from the cross bar of his bike.
“Really pissed her off!” he laughed.

Hypnos beams proudly.
“Good work son”

Morpheus grins, replacing his gadget into a pocket.
“Zeus!, you really don’t like this guy, huh?” he says.

Hypnos pulls himself to full height. The top button of his pantaloons
pops and hurtles across the room, tinging against the amphora of wine.

“An Omen” he muses, clutching the waist of his pants. That wine must be drunk.

“He sat on my effigy and broke my likeness. Unforgivable!” he booms,
rattling the walls and stirring small ripples in the waters below him.

“For goodness sake Hyppy” his wife’s irritated voice comes from the bedroom.
“Sorry Love!” he calls, sheepishly re-adjusting his pants.

“Yeah, yeah, Mom said. He was three years old though, wasn’t he?” said
Morpheus, his head now covered in the hood from his Parker jacket.

“HE SAT ON MY LIKENESS!!” Hypnos booms once more, the last word failing
slightly as a bedroom door slammed behind him as Pasithea locks him
out.

“Alright, Alright. It’s just that, Well, when was the last time we
gave the poor sod a good nights sleep? 1976 or thereabouts?” said Morpheus.

“1975, actually” replied Hypnos, brushing a proud hand through his blond curls, his hand then darting back to his waist band before his pants can fall any further.

“Anyway Dad, I was thinking…….”

 ”Gotta go son, Gods to see, Mortals to annoy” says Hypnos hurriedly,
already striding towards the amphora.

“Yeah, Ok, yeah. About this Bike Dad…….”

Hypnos snaps his fingers and the waters became silveryblue once more.
Settling down on his favourite bench, he pours himself some wine, and smiles happily to himself at the thought of a job well done.