PROMPT - quiet sounds

The elusive sleep finally comes at three in the morning. I have drank three cups of hot cocoa, spaced between eleven and one. I have changed the sheets, the whole set, including the mattress pad - thank God for those post Boxing Day sales. I would have changed the curtains but they match the newly changed sheets plus the step ladder is stored in the building's basement storage. I have read the weekend Globe and Mail including comics, have done the Sudoku and the New York Times crossword, even finished the ones from two days ago's edition. When I start to yawn five times I know I was on the verge of that elusive sleep.

And so I lay down on my bed and start to relax my body. I summon tranquil thoughts...I am on a hammock suspended between two coconut trees, overlooking the turqouise sea; I even see two sailboats beyond; the breeze gently nudge the leaves; and there I am by the beach with white beaches stretched on either sides.

Then I hear two small thuds, then a creaking sound, faint at first, then gradually becoming louder and faster. The bitch upstairs is fucking with one of her boyfriends.

I close my eyes again, recalling my tranquil thoughts. I pick up a large shell from the white sand and place it against my ear. But instead of the gentle humming of the ocean, I hear the loud cries of a woman: Aaaahhh! Haaaaah! Oh, yes! Yes! Give it all to me, baby. C'mon, harder. Yesssss! Aaaaahhhh!

I open my eyes and the first thing I see is the clock: 3:15. In the morning. The creaking, the loud banging, the even louder voice go on for almost like forever. I hear it intermittently: her description of his "lovely cock". Lovely cock?!; her adoration of his "super soft balls slapping" her skin; her earnest begging to make her come. Amusing for the first five minutes. But it went on and on and on and on. Whenever there is a lull and I have resigned myself that the "show" was "over", it starts all over again.

I get up and drag myself to the kitchen. I open the fridge intending to make more hot cocoa. Instead, my eyes catch the bottle of Barolo I had opened with company last weekend. Fine. I would drink myself to sleep, I would worry about the hangover when I get there. I have two sips when I turn around and stare at the sofa in the living room. There is my santuary.

I leave the bottle of Barolo on the counter. I do not want my sleepiness to leave with the mere act of putting back a bottle of wine in the fridge. I take a deep breath as I walked towards the sofa. I sit, I lay down, I close my eyes. And then there I am, walking on a field of yellow and white tulips, with a windmill in the distance, the breeze quietly blowing the leaves, the sun shining brightly, and the sky a pleasant hue of blue. I dream I am in Ghent, in Belgique, near the border of Pays-Bas. A place from so many years ago that I would love to visit again. Who was it then? Ihor. I wonder if he is thinking of me at the moment while I am dreaming of him. In Ghent, yellow and white tulips surrounding me.

Loud sounds of thunder startle me. Just when the image of Ihor appears in the distance. I turn around and see that the sky has turned gray, dark clouds form in the horizon, lightning slashing and the clouds slap and make deafening sounds. Above me, a steady sound of something heavy banging on the floor wakes me. The couple upstairs have moved to the room above my living room and there they continue their love making.