Dreaming Big: A Well-Rested Satire. In this world of Insomniaville, where everyone around me is cursed with eternal wakefulness, I am the rare creature who can sleep anywhere, anytime. I am not the Princess of Wakefulness screaming wokefulness. No, I’m more like the Duke of Dozing-Off-During-Conference-Calls. I can sleep at the drop of a hat—on the couch, at my desk, in the middle of a chaotic children’s birthday party. But here’s the thing: they still tell me to “dream big.” And therein lies the irony. Why bother dreaming when I’m already an Olympic javelin throwing-level sleeper star?

Meanwhile, the good people of Insomniaville are wide awake, glowing like extras in a dystopian sci-fi film, scrolling endlessly through their screens, hunting for the elusive gift of rest. They pull all-nighters fueled by caffeine, podcasts, and existential dread. As they wrestle with their sleepless nights, I’m here snoring blissfully through Netflix’s newest binge-worthy drama.

Oh, they’ll tell you: “Dream big!” But how can anyone dream big when they can’t even close their eyes long enough to dream small? World domination, writing the next great novel, curing world hunger—those sound great in theory. But most people I know would settle for eight hours of sleep and a weekend without notifications.

Adrenaline Rush of Big Dreams

I could dream big, of course. Well, I could win a Nobel Prize in something—or maybe become a tech billionaire—but then again, I don’t need the adrenaline rush of big dreams. I have sleep. And I mean, what’s the point of striving for grandeur when you’re already at peace with the pillow, tucked away in a kingdom where REM cycles reign supreme? Why reach for the stars when you can simply nap under them?

And let’s talk about the screen glow—the modern-day campfire that keeps Insomniaville awake. Everyone’s out there doom-scrolling like it’s a competitive sport, while I scroll just long enough to catch a yawn, then it’s lights out for me. They stay up debating productivity hacks and reading articles about sleep hygiene. Me? I just laugh in the face of lavender sprays and chamomile tea. I’ve got sleep on speed dial. The irony is rich: here I am, floating through my dreams with ease, while everyone else is clutching at theirs like some distant fantasy.

My fairy godmother? Not Melatonin, no. Mine’s a luxurious weighted blanket. The sandman? He’s my best bud, always hanging around, while others are stuck staring at the ceiling, wishing for a crumb of his magic. What’s a big dream compared to the unmatched satisfaction of curling up in bed, effortlessly slipping into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness?

Sleep Privileged Elite Society (SPES)

But sure, sure, “dream big,” they say. I’ve thought about founding the Sleep Privileged Elite Society (SPES), where we’d gather to casually brag about the naps we’ve taken while others slave away, wide-eyed and restless. Or maybe I’ll start a wellness podcast about the art of not trying too hard to fall asleep, starring me—snoring softly in the background as my co-host drones on about sleep myths and mindfulness while being demure.

There’s also an idea for “Slumberland: The Theme Park for the Well-Rested.” Picture it: padded hammocks, gentle lullabies playing on loop, no phone reception whatsoever, and a daily parade of insomniacs who wander in like zombies, hoping to catch a glimpse of what a full night’s rest looks like. It’ll be revolutionary—a place where dreams come true simply because people can dream.

And for the sleep-deprived, I’m thinking of releasing a line of “Almost-As-Good-As-Sleep” products, like caffeine patches and motivational posters that say, “At least you’re awake enough to read this!”

Ah, Insomniaville, where dreams are in short supply, but sarcasm runs rampant. I may have the luxury of sleep, but the truth is, dreaming big in this age of constant screen time and sleepless nights seems like a fairy tale. So, instead of chasing huge, unrealistic goals, I’ll just take another nap. Call me when you invent an app that can make people dream while they’re still awake. Until then, I’ll just keep doing what I do best—sleeping.

Because let’s be honest: dreaming big is overrated when you’re already living your best (and most rested) life.

Disclaimer:
This essay was written by someone who may or may not have slept through the entire writing process. Big dreams? Maybe. Restful nights? Absolutely.