‘Dozing’ is the Creative Non-Fiction Considering the Pitfalls of Doomscrolling Before Bed
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You reach under your duvet, searching for the cold little rectangle. It recognises the millions of spirals that have been on your thumb since you were a baby. You open Twitter. Something could have happened; there could be something somewhere that satisfies the unrest in your brain. Someone has shared an article about a beautiful actress being cheated on by her lesser-known boyfriend: ‘There is no hope for the rest of us'.
You scroll. Somebody else has posted a pastel infographic about 'problematic' and 'culturally insensitive' Halloween costumes. The tone is moralising yet detached; you should not have any questions about it. 'Friendly reminder,’ the caption says.
A prominent newspaper shares a headline: 'In The Long Run, Wars Make us Richer'. Accompanied is a silhouette of a soldier, pointing a gun into nothingness. The soldier is removed from reality; he is sanitised and free from suffering. Next to the silhouette are piles of gold coins, reminiscent of the coins you would collect in a video game.
Your friend Johnathon from school has just posted: 'I've really been deluding myself lately that I don't miss them huh :('. Posted at 03:06 AM. You click on his profile. Johnathon has been posting scraps of pessimistic tweets for the last two days.
'Todays mental illness dinner is a 2 euro microwavable quiche, not bad'
'I feel like I'm on the other side of a broken radio all the time, all people hear from me is broken static. Bzz Bzz.'
'Do any other ex -gifted kids want to start a support group where we share the skills we were praised for as children and also cry?'
'It's hard being right all the time I wish I could turn my brain off'
'Fuck I am lonely'
'I have a god complex sorry'
You scroll. Johnathon's tweets have no likes or responses. He is shouting into a void of information that ignores him. His sad narcissism is written to no one, yet for everyone to read, like silent neighbours staring through the living room window. You want to feel sorry for Johnathon, but you are begrudged. Johnathon thinks his thoughts are worth the same virtual space as live updates on upcoming elections or a recent bombing. You wish someone would listen to you and stare at your thoughts at 3am on a Tuesday. You like Johnathon's tweet about the quiche.
The light of your phone burns the soft folds of your eyelids, it comforts you. Your back is hurting, you need to sleep. You search 'Sleep meditation' into YouTube. The results show rows of beaches, Buddha statues, whales, a woman holding her hands into a prayer symbol. You have reached a corner of the internet which people crawl to in the small hours, a modern prescription to the ancient burden of being unable to sleep. The false prophets of comfort lure you in, you click on a video of a starry night, photoshopped in underneath is a woman with her head resting on a cloud: 'INSTANT SLEEP MEDITATION: ANGEL VIBRATION HERTZ FOR A DEEP AND RELAXING SLEEP'.
You scroll to the comments. A woman named AngelaRichardson1, who's profile picture is a selfie of her wearing sunglasses in a car, writes: 'If you are reading this, I believe that your tomorrow will be better than your today. God Bless (prayer emoji, star emoji)'. Underneath Angela, a user named 'Tyrion_Lannister20' writes: 'I am currently in the hospital while my dad is undergoing surgery for testicular cancer. This has been the hardest week of my life, I am watching him slowly disintegrate before me. I searched for this video in looking for some type of distraction and solace from my worry. This sent me to a place of peace and acceptance I haven't reached in months. Thank you. I can feel the love from each of the comments in this section (love heart emoji).' You like this comment, a heart pops up. 532 other people have done this.
You press play, a soft Australian voice spreads over a gentle buzzing noise. The voice is tinny as it escapes from the speaker on your phone. It tells you to inhale. The air that floats into your nostrils is cold, stroking your lungs. The voice tells you that you will find 'integrity and space' in your sleep, and you will 'embrace your subconscious and feel the love of the universe'. Your breath is heavy now, you imagine a cat resting on your chest, small paws on your neck. The soft voice from your phone is cut off, 'No time to waste? Order off Best Mate. With you in 30 minutes or less. We'll be there for you.' A peppy percussion beats in the background. You think of what you would consume if you could get anything you wanted right now. Mint tea, air conditioning, a vintage edition of Jane Eyre, silk hair rollers. The static voice returns. 'Allow the gentle vibrations of this video to sync with your breathing. You are safe.'
Your breath settles like a spiralling coin just before it tips over. Soft circles of inhalation and exhalation. Your phone switches off. The traces you left behind you on this midnight trip is collected and sealed, regurgitated into new information for you to consume tomorrow morning.
Words: Nora O’Dea