Eric Whitacre - Sleep
The evening hangs beneath the moon, a silver thread on darkened dune.
With closing eyes and resting head I know that sleep is coming soon.
Upon my pillow, safe in bed, a thousand pictures fill my head,
I cannot sleep, my mind’s a flight; and yet my limbs seem made of lead.
If there are noises in the night, a frightening shadow, flickering light;
Then I surrender unto sleep, where clouds of dream give second sight.
What dreams may come, both dark and deep, of flying wings and soaring leap
As I surrender unto sleep.
The music is written by Eric Whitacre, but due to some copyright issues with his first lyrics, he asked Charles Anthony Silvestri to write new lyrics to his already written vocal score. It's a choral peice.
Proof that it exsists: http://www.ericwhitacre.com/main.html - There's a cool little MP3 player deal on the side that lets you listen to most of his work. Look for the vocal version of Sleep if you want to hear it... even though it only lets you listen to the end.
----------------
Notes from the Author:
With a song like this, I couldn't really think of a story, setting, or characters. The only (story bulding) things that this song mentions are thoughts, sounds, sleep, and I.
So, this story-- though a bit confusing to read-- is the thought process of a person trying to fall asleep. There's no narration or anything... just thoughts. Thoughts are generally random, so some won't make sense. For example, you might notice that he leaves out the word 'I' sometimes. It's a bit weird-- but that's just how the character thinks. You'll also find him rambleing about things that... well... you simply just don't care about. As he gets more and more tired, you'll see more and more thoughts scattered throughout his dialogue.
The music states that the only character is 'I'. When you hear this song, you wouldn't think of my character right off the bat, but 'I' can be anything. The things he thinks are extremely off compared to the sound of the song as well. But once again, the song isn't really specific. I think I can make"A thousand pictures fill my head" be whatever I want them to be, no?
Just a note for the judges, during the character's process of falling asleep, he has a song stuck in his head-- it's called Panic, by a band named Pistolita. I actually emailed them via Myspace and asked for permission, which was happily granted. They then invited me to see their next concert on the 26th of January. xD
Anyway, don't get too confused, and enjoy the read. I've never written like this-- nor do I plan to in the future, but it was extremely fun writing it. So without further ado, I present to you my finished peice:
...dammit... left the blinds open.
...it’s bright. Never noticed how much light illuminated from the moon... I don’t feel like getting up and closing the blinds... just got comfortable. Are the stars helping? There’s so many. They’re like... random asterisks... that the gods scattered throughout the heavens, each of which serves its own purpose.
Wow, what am I saying? That was ********. “...the gods scattered throughout the heavens, each of which serves its own purpose.” Why do I think like that sometimes? Too much English class, I guess. ...need to fall asleep pretty soon... got the alarm set to the big ‘eight, zero, zero’. It’s ten o’clock. I should get about ten hours of sleep if I fell asleep right away.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
...so many stars... asterisks? Did I set my alarm for AM or PM? I always seem to mess that up somehow... oh, good. All set for eight o’clock AM. Eight o’clock. Eight. Stars. Asterisks. Moon. ...need to stop looking at the sky. It’s distracting. If I just close my eyes, I should be able to fall asleep pretty quick... I did work a ten hour shift today, thanks to crazy Laura... yet, I’m not even tired in the slightest. That’s nothing, right? I guess serving rich people wine and brie isn’t all that energy consuming. But still, I’ve been on my feet all day. My legs are killing me. After working there for six months, you think they’d be able to handle it. Maybe I should start running again? Or I could just start eating healthy. Healthy. I can ask Jessica about her diet. That chick’s a freakin’ health nut. Not that it’s a bad thing. ...she's just too... needy... like I need sleep.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
...damn window... damn moon... I don’t think I’ve ever seen the individual leaves on a tree at night until now. The moon is so bright. And the stars... eight o’clock. Eight. Asterisks. Eight...
Eight...?
Eight is the asterisk key on keyboards. Crazy.
Really... crazy... really crazy that I even associated those... I'm crazy good... I'm crazy... crazy?
I must be more tired than I thought... I'm crazy tired. I need to lay off the... caffeine. It’ll go along with my new healthy lifestyle... now that I’ve sworn away caffeine, It’d be nice if I just got some frickin’ sleep...
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
I swear I’ve had this damn song stuck in my head since noon... not that it's a bad thing. This song is amazing, even though it's a bit depressing. Glad I got to see them live. Best concert I’ve seen in a long time.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Chelsea was there too. Without her, we wouldn’t have been able to find the shoe I lost during that choice guitar solo...
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Never seen such a flat shoe... wonder how many people trampled that thing? At least forty some odd feet had to have flattened it during the mosh. Wouldn’t be surprised if we stepped on it a few times ourselves.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Dammit. I hate it when I have just the chorus stuck in my head.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
And now that I’ve noticed it...
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
...it’s getting worse... almost as annoying as the moon.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
...I really... need sleep.
It's 10:30. Important day tomorrow. Chelsea said she’d never been to a concert before. But... I need to sleep.
Sleep... leap... creep... sheep? Count sheep? One-- Does this even work? Doubt it. I probably... shouldn’t... It wouldn’t work anyway. I’d get bored and stop counting before I’d actually fall asleep. I wonder how many sheep I’d get to? Probably get up to at least sleep. ...did I just say sleep? Really, I’m ... pretty scatterbrained.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
No problem... as long as I get eight hours of sleep, I’ll be fine. Just fine. Eight o’clock. Eight. Asterisks... asterisks... stars and... they kind of look like... spiders. Spiders. I hate spiders. Eight legs. Eight. That’s all I need, is eight. Eight asterisks... I mean... hours. ...I just said eight asterisks? Why the hell do I keep saying that?
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Having a song stuck in my head is pretty common, but... a word? It’s... nothing. Asterisks. What the hell? Asterisks. Eight. Spiders. Asterisks. Asterisks... they’re not even anything special... just little stars... spiders?
*
Whatever the hell they are, they pretty much have no set meaning. They represent whatever the writer wants them want them to represent...
...what do my asterisks represent?
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
What do I represent? ...
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
...wow, that was deep. Now I just need to shut the hell up and fall asleep.
“The light is fading faster now, the breath is letting shorter out, close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
....*?
...what do I represent?
What do people see when they see me? What does the little star (spider?) next to my name mean?
Travis* Dubois**
* = A rather sarcastic young man... with... cool hair.
** = A French surname which denotes from the old French ‘bois,’ meaning ‘wood’.
There. I represent all those that are sarcastic, well groomed, and wood. At least I represent something. Me and Pinocchio should hang out.
“The light is fading faster now, the breath is letting shorter out, close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Shoot. It's midnight. Midnight? Twelve...? When the hell did this happen? I swear my mind can time travel. One minute it’s ten thirty, the next it’s midnight. Eight hours until eight. Eight... no more asterisks.
...Dubois... wood... Pinnochio.
Pinnochio reminds me of another awesome song.... which is also depressing. Need to start listening to some happier stuff. Happy as a clam... clam chowder... ew... vomit. Like that one time at the carnival. Chelsea was there, too. She’s a better friend than I thought. She can hang out with me and Pinocchio.
“The light is fading faster now, the breath is letting shorter out, close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
damn song.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
My puke at the carnival was pretty gnarly... it was all worth it to see the carnies clean it up... with the mop... and...
...
Asterisks.
...dammit.
It's one o’clock... one... o'clock. One o'clock?! One. One. One. One. One. One. One. One. Eight ones. Eight asterisks. Eight. One. Eight minus one. Seven. Seven hours of sleep. So much for my original intention of ten hours... those first flew by pretty quickly. Like I said before, my mind can time travel. I should somehow harvest my thoughts, bottle them, and sell them for– was that?– “Who’s there?”
...a shadow passed the window....
...not again.
I... can't... can’t hear eight. ...it.
“The light is fading faster now, the breath is letting shorter out, close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Is it there or... ? Is it there or is it... is it eight? Or... sleep... I’m hallucinating? I really need sleep... I need eight hours of it. I need eight. Eight. One. Eight. Stars. Spiders. Shadows. Asterisks.
...if it really was someone, it has to– “Who’s there?” – respond. Response. The silence can be a response. Maybe it heard me and is standing still, waiting for a safe moment to move again. “Who’s there? Please leave.” It’s probably just a cat... that can walk past my window? No, I swear it had to– what the hell was that? It’s.. “Hello?” .... no response. Silence. Is silence the response?
Imagination? Truth or imagination? The answer. That’s what I need to find out. If I can find the answer, I can probably fall asleep easier. Truth or asterisks? ... Truth or imagination?
“The light is fading faster now, the breath is letting shorter out, close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
...I think it’s gone. “Helllooo?” ... no sudden silences.
But...
...were the prior silences sudden? Was there any noise in the first place? Was there no noise or shadow?
I just need to close my eyes... and fall asleep. I think I am having hallucinations again. Sleep deprivation? Or is it ...? I’ll find out tomorrow, I hope. But as for now, I need sleep. I probably only have five or six hours left to slee--no way... it’s only 1:03?
All that paranoia happened within three minutes? I guess... I guess I can slow down time, as well as speed it up? Of course I can’t, but it’s like... it’s nothing, right? It’s nothing. Nothing at aster—all..
Seven hours still. Seven. One. Seven and one is eight. Seven, eight, nine. Nine is eight with one. Eight without one is sleep. One by itself is time.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Eight. One. Seven. Nine. Spiders. Shadows...
“The light is fading faster now, the breath is letting shorter out, close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Asterisks.
Represent.
Wood?
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over... close your eyes, it’s almost over... close your eyes, it’s almost over... The light is fading faster now, the breath is letting shorter out, close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
...again... it's happening? I saw the shadow? Is it happening because of the shadow? I don't remember ever seeing any shadows before tonight...
Eight. Eight? Eight, right? It’s just eight... only eight. More than eight? But... he said so. He said eight times a month. Every Sunday and Wednesday.
I stuck with eight. It’s nothing. It’s caffeine. He said eight, I stuck with eight.
Stupid stars.
Asterisk shadows. Eight, wood, one asterisk with spiders with eight legs and I took eight.
I swear I did. I didn’t miss a single day. Eight times a month, eight pills.
I can’t stop... it’s for the asterisk eight. Eight, zero, zero. Alarm is set to eight, zero, zero. AM. All set for the...
Ast--
Appointment. I need to wake up at eight pills. Eight o’clock. I need to see the doctor. Now. I need... “Who’s there?” asterisks. Who’s the shadow? The doctor? Wake up at eight am to see the doctor. Two o’clock am. Six hours. Six. Two. Equals eight together. Eight. Eight legs. Eight days. Eight pills. Eight AM. See doctor.
Eight represents the number of times I have to take the pills a month. Eight per month. For my doctor’s appointment tomorrow at eight. He’ll then. He’ll give me. More pills? No. No way, I’m not crazy. It’s nothing. I’m tired. It’s all that caffeine. That'll be the diagnosis.
No more pills. They were usless. I ate eight, and there's still... numbers. I can't get the numbers, shadows, thoughts... to just... leave... it's the caffeine. That's the diagnosis.
Dr. Mitchell... he wrote it down. He said eight. Eight*? Was there an asterisk?
Was there... an asterisk? A change? A warning?
There was no warning. I took eight*. EIGHT. There... WAS no warning. Nothing to worry about.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Just need to lay off the coffee and soda.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
The diagnosis... it's caffeine.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Diagnosis caffeine.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Diagnosis.
“Close your eyes...”
Insanity?
“It’s almost over...”
The evening hangs beneath the moon, a silver thread on darkened dune.
With closing eyes and resting head I know that sleep is coming soon.
Upon my pillow, safe in bed, a thousand pictures fill my head,
I cannot sleep, my mind’s a flight; and yet my limbs seem made of lead.
If there are noises in the night, a frightening shadow, flickering light;
Then I surrender unto sleep, where clouds of dream give second sight.
What dreams may come, both dark and deep, of flying wings and soaring leap
As I surrender unto sleep.
The music is written by Eric Whitacre, but due to some copyright issues with his first lyrics, he asked Charles Anthony Silvestri to write new lyrics to his already written vocal score. It's a choral peice.
Proof that it exsists: http://www.ericwhitacre.com/main.html - There's a cool little MP3 player deal on the side that lets you listen to most of his work. Look for the vocal version of Sleep if you want to hear it... even though it only lets you listen to the end.
----------------
Notes from the Author:
With a song like this, I couldn't really think of a story, setting, or characters. The only (story bulding) things that this song mentions are thoughts, sounds, sleep, and I.
So, this story-- though a bit confusing to read-- is the thought process of a person trying to fall asleep. There's no narration or anything... just thoughts. Thoughts are generally random, so some won't make sense. For example, you might notice that he leaves out the word 'I' sometimes. It's a bit weird-- but that's just how the character thinks. You'll also find him rambleing about things that... well... you simply just don't care about. As he gets more and more tired, you'll see more and more thoughts scattered throughout his dialogue.
The music states that the only character is 'I'. When you hear this song, you wouldn't think of my character right off the bat, but 'I' can be anything. The things he thinks are extremely off compared to the sound of the song as well. But once again, the song isn't really specific. I think I can make"A thousand pictures fill my head" be whatever I want them to be, no?
Just a note for the judges, during the character's process of falling asleep, he has a song stuck in his head-- it's called Panic, by a band named Pistolita. I actually emailed them via Myspace and asked for permission, which was happily granted. They then invited me to see their next concert on the 26th of January. xD
Anyway, don't get too confused, and enjoy the read. I've never written like this-- nor do I plan to in the future, but it was extremely fun writing it. So without further ado, I present to you my finished peice:
Sleep
...dammit... left the blinds open.
...it’s bright. Never noticed how much light illuminated from the moon... I don’t feel like getting up and closing the blinds... just got comfortable. Are the stars helping? There’s so many. They’re like... random asterisks... that the gods scattered throughout the heavens, each of which serves its own purpose.
Wow, what am I saying? That was ********. “...the gods scattered throughout the heavens, each of which serves its own purpose.” Why do I think like that sometimes? Too much English class, I guess. ...need to fall asleep pretty soon... got the alarm set to the big ‘eight, zero, zero’. It’s ten o’clock. I should get about ten hours of sleep if I fell asleep right away.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
...so many stars... asterisks? Did I set my alarm for AM or PM? I always seem to mess that up somehow... oh, good. All set for eight o’clock AM. Eight o’clock. Eight. Stars. Asterisks. Moon. ...need to stop looking at the sky. It’s distracting. If I just close my eyes, I should be able to fall asleep pretty quick... I did work a ten hour shift today, thanks to crazy Laura... yet, I’m not even tired in the slightest. That’s nothing, right? I guess serving rich people wine and brie isn’t all that energy consuming. But still, I’ve been on my feet all day. My legs are killing me. After working there for six months, you think they’d be able to handle it. Maybe I should start running again? Or I could just start eating healthy. Healthy. I can ask Jessica about her diet. That chick’s a freakin’ health nut. Not that it’s a bad thing. ...she's just too... needy... like I need sleep.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
...damn window... damn moon... I don’t think I’ve ever seen the individual leaves on a tree at night until now. The moon is so bright. And the stars... eight o’clock. Eight. Asterisks. Eight...
Eight...?
Eight is the asterisk key on keyboards. Crazy.
Really... crazy... really crazy that I even associated those... I'm crazy good... I'm crazy... crazy?
I must be more tired than I thought... I'm crazy tired. I need to lay off the... caffeine. It’ll go along with my new healthy lifestyle... now that I’ve sworn away caffeine, It’d be nice if I just got some frickin’ sleep...
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
I swear I’ve had this damn song stuck in my head since noon... not that it's a bad thing. This song is amazing, even though it's a bit depressing. Glad I got to see them live. Best concert I’ve seen in a long time.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Chelsea was there too. Without her, we wouldn’t have been able to find the shoe I lost during that choice guitar solo...
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Never seen such a flat shoe... wonder how many people trampled that thing? At least forty some odd feet had to have flattened it during the mosh. Wouldn’t be surprised if we stepped on it a few times ourselves.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Dammit. I hate it when I have just the chorus stuck in my head.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
And now that I’ve noticed it...
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
...it’s getting worse... almost as annoying as the moon.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
...I really... need sleep.
It's 10:30. Important day tomorrow. Chelsea said she’d never been to a concert before. But... I need to sleep.
Sleep... leap... creep... sheep? Count sheep? One-- Does this even work? Doubt it. I probably... shouldn’t... It wouldn’t work anyway. I’d get bored and stop counting before I’d actually fall asleep. I wonder how many sheep I’d get to? Probably get up to at least sleep. ...did I just say sleep? Really, I’m ... pretty scatterbrained.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
No problem... as long as I get eight hours of sleep, I’ll be fine. Just fine. Eight o’clock. Eight. Asterisks... asterisks... stars and... they kind of look like... spiders. Spiders. I hate spiders. Eight legs. Eight. That’s all I need, is eight. Eight asterisks... I mean... hours. ...I just said eight asterisks? Why the hell do I keep saying that?
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Having a song stuck in my head is pretty common, but... a word? It’s... nothing. Asterisks. What the hell? Asterisks. Eight. Spiders. Asterisks. Asterisks... they’re not even anything special... just little stars... spiders?
*
Whatever the hell they are, they pretty much have no set meaning. They represent whatever the writer wants them want them to represent...
...what do my asterisks represent?
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
What do I represent? ...
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
...wow, that was deep. Now I just need to shut the hell up and fall asleep.
“The light is fading faster now, the breath is letting shorter out, close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
....*?
...what do I represent?
What do people see when they see me? What does the little star (spider?) next to my name mean?
Travis* Dubois**
* = A rather sarcastic young man... with... cool hair.
** = A French surname which denotes from the old French ‘bois,’ meaning ‘wood’.
There. I represent all those that are sarcastic, well groomed, and wood. At least I represent something. Me and Pinocchio should hang out.
“The light is fading faster now, the breath is letting shorter out, close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Shoot. It's midnight. Midnight? Twelve...? When the hell did this happen? I swear my mind can time travel. One minute it’s ten thirty, the next it’s midnight. Eight hours until eight. Eight... no more asterisks.
...Dubois... wood... Pinnochio.
Pinnochio reminds me of another awesome song.... which is also depressing. Need to start listening to some happier stuff. Happy as a clam... clam chowder... ew... vomit. Like that one time at the carnival. Chelsea was there, too. She’s a better friend than I thought. She can hang out with me and Pinocchio.
“The light is fading faster now, the breath is letting shorter out, close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
damn song.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
My puke at the carnival was pretty gnarly... it was all worth it to see the carnies clean it up... with the mop... and...
...
Asterisks.
...dammit.
It's one o’clock... one... o'clock. One o'clock?! One. One. One. One. One. One. One. One. Eight ones. Eight asterisks. Eight. One. Eight minus one. Seven. Seven hours of sleep. So much for my original intention of ten hours... those first flew by pretty quickly. Like I said before, my mind can time travel. I should somehow harvest my thoughts, bottle them, and sell them for– was that?– “Who’s there?”
...a shadow passed the window....
...not again.
I... can't... can’t hear eight. ...it.
“The light is fading faster now, the breath is letting shorter out, close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Is it there or... ? Is it there or is it... is it eight? Or... sleep... I’m hallucinating? I really need sleep... I need eight hours of it. I need eight. Eight. One. Eight. Stars. Spiders. Shadows. Asterisks.
...if it really was someone, it has to– “Who’s there?” – respond. Response. The silence can be a response. Maybe it heard me and is standing still, waiting for a safe moment to move again. “Who’s there? Please leave.” It’s probably just a cat... that can walk past my window? No, I swear it had to– what the hell was that? It’s.. “Hello?” .... no response. Silence. Is silence the response?
Imagination? Truth or imagination? The answer. That’s what I need to find out. If I can find the answer, I can probably fall asleep easier. Truth or asterisks? ... Truth or imagination?
“The light is fading faster now, the breath is letting shorter out, close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
...I think it’s gone. “Helllooo?” ... no sudden silences.
But...
...were the prior silences sudden? Was there any noise in the first place? Was there no noise or shadow?
I just need to close my eyes... and fall asleep. I think I am having hallucinations again. Sleep deprivation? Or is it ...? I’ll find out tomorrow, I hope. But as for now, I need sleep. I probably only have five or six hours left to slee--no way... it’s only 1:03?
All that paranoia happened within three minutes? I guess... I guess I can slow down time, as well as speed it up? Of course I can’t, but it’s like... it’s nothing, right? It’s nothing. Nothing at aster—all..
Seven hours still. Seven. One. Seven and one is eight. Seven, eight, nine. Nine is eight with one. Eight without one is sleep. One by itself is time.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Eight. One. Seven. Nine. Spiders. Shadows...
“The light is fading faster now, the breath is letting shorter out, close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Asterisks.
Represent.
Wood?
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over... close your eyes, it’s almost over... close your eyes, it’s almost over... The light is fading faster now, the breath is letting shorter out, close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
...again... it's happening? I saw the shadow? Is it happening because of the shadow? I don't remember ever seeing any shadows before tonight...
Eight. Eight? Eight, right? It’s just eight... only eight. More than eight? But... he said so. He said eight times a month. Every Sunday and Wednesday.
I stuck with eight. It’s nothing. It’s caffeine. He said eight, I stuck with eight.
Stupid stars.
Asterisk shadows. Eight, wood, one asterisk with spiders with eight legs and I took eight.
I swear I did. I didn’t miss a single day. Eight times a month, eight pills.
I can’t stop... it’s for the asterisk eight. Eight, zero, zero. Alarm is set to eight, zero, zero. AM. All set for the...
Ast--
Appointment. I need to wake up at eight pills. Eight o’clock. I need to see the doctor. Now. I need... “Who’s there?” asterisks. Who’s the shadow? The doctor? Wake up at eight am to see the doctor. Two o’clock am. Six hours. Six. Two. Equals eight together. Eight. Eight legs. Eight days. Eight pills. Eight AM. See doctor.
Eight represents the number of times I have to take the pills a month. Eight per month. For my doctor’s appointment tomorrow at eight. He’ll then. He’ll give me. More pills? No. No way, I’m not crazy. It’s nothing. I’m tired. It’s all that caffeine. That'll be the diagnosis.
No more pills. They were usless. I ate eight, and there's still... numbers. I can't get the numbers, shadows, thoughts... to just... leave... it's the caffeine. That's the diagnosis.
Dr. Mitchell... he wrote it down. He said eight. Eight*? Was there an asterisk?
Was there... an asterisk? A change? A warning?
There was no warning. I took eight*. EIGHT. There... WAS no warning. Nothing to worry about.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Just need to lay off the coffee and soda.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
The diagnosis... it's caffeine.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Diagnosis caffeine.
“Close your eyes, it’s almost over...”
Diagnosis.
“Close your eyes...”
Insanity?
“It’s almost over...”
