Unable

Once upon a time there was a heroine who was unable to sleep. She would lie down in her small room at night and close her eyes, but sleep eluded her. She counted sheep. Drank warm milk. Ran miles before bedtime. But nothing worked.

After lying still with her eyes closed for some time, she would eventually sigh and open her eyes again, and gaze around her darkened room. She was amused at how everything looked different in the dark, and yet it was all the same. For nothing in it had changed.

When there was a moon, it kept her company by shinning in gently through her window. The heroine and the moon became great friends and the heroine missed the moon deeply when, as it sometimes happens, the moon disappeared from the sky for a night.

During her long conversations with the moon and sometimes the stars (though they take forever to reply) the heroine was told that there was nothing missed by the fact that she could not sleep. They told her that sleep was overrated, and yet the heroine would look at the morning faces of people and she realized that being unable to sleep, caused something terrible to happen inside of her. For by being unable to sleep she was thus unable to dream.