Sandman

Lola watched Walken pad up the stairs and heard him enter the bedroom overhead. Lola could just picture him sitting there looking from the bed to the door and back to the bed. His large black face panting in anticipation as he was waiting for her to give him the signal it was okay to hop into bed.

In the downstairs bathroom, she downed two Tylenol PM with a glass of Alka-Seltzer, and brushed her teeth. Years of insomnia led to a slight dependency on sleep aids. The average person can fall asleep in 15 minutes or less; on a good night Lola could find slumber after two fitful hours.

Walken watching, Lola crawled into bed, settled in, and whispered his name. On cue, he bounded into bed and curled up next to her back. Lola had designed the space herself. The queen-size bed was elevated above the rest of the furniture. Decked out in deep purple and sky blue velvet the bed faced a large bank of windows. She’d intended the space to be the ultimate in comfort to entice the sandman.

There was something to be said for sleeping with a dog. He warmed the bed, rarely stole the covers, and there was little chance he would leave any bodily fluids aside from drool on the sheets. Sleep, however, was not possible.

Photo: Adam-Pieratt