Sometimes it's hard to find your dreams

Now I lay me down to sleep.

If only it were that easy. I come from a long line of world-class insomniacs; it runs in my genes like good teeth in the Kennedy family. My husband, on the other hand, sleeps like a dead person. He tells people: "When I wake up in the morning, I have no memories of the night. When Bella wakes up, she has a series of adventures to tell me about."

It's true. I toss and turn. The pillow isn't right. There are too many covers. Too few covers. Someone's dog is barking. The crickets are mighty loud tonight.

Worse than the external annoyances are the internal ones. Oops, I forgot to send a birthday card to Jane today. I need to e-mail my brother. Why hasn't that source returned my call? Is my daughter's new apartment in a safe neighborhood? Nick needs some new jeans. I hope Sue's back is better. Why do kids have to get cancer? I can't believe Manny is gone. He'll never cut off his dreads. Wait till the fans out there get sick of Manny being Manny. It'll happen, just wait . . .

Well, you get the picture. Insomnia doubtless goes back to the days of the cavemen, who simply got up from their Tempur-Pedic mattresses, poured themselves a shot of bourbon, and stayed up late watching the American women gymnasts.

Sleeplessness has inspired the poets since time immemorial. Chaucer wrote of his own insomnia in some indecipherable Middle English ("slepe full unmete") and Keats devoted 400 lines in an ode to sleep - though in line 395, he finally admits to "a sleepless night."

Over the years, I've tried everything. I counted sheep for so long that they fell asleep before I did. I tried the sleep mask, but it slipped off. A friend loaned me her white-noise machine, but it was too loud. Sleeping pills make me feel like a zombie the next morning. Reading myself to sleep works pretty well - for a while. Chamomile tea is calming, but then you have to get up to go to the bathroom.

There are many natural remedies at the health food store I go to in Quincy. "Calm" is magnesium or something, and you drink it in a mug, like tea. It's great but, like tea, there's a downside: a middle-of-the-night bathroom break. I bought a "Sweet Dreams" candle, thinking aromatherapy might do the trick. It smelled great, but I worried about the bed catching on fire.

I consulted my friend Sally Connolly, who has a holistic healing practice in Milton. "Lots of people don't sleep," she says. "It's a huge problem." First, she told me what not to do before bedtime. No caffeine, including chocolate. No sweets, or you'll get a sugar high. (So much for the after-dinner run for a hot fudge sundae.) Nothing electrical - not even a clock - in your sleep space.

Then she gave me suggestions for what to do. Soak your feet in warm water for 20 minutes before bedtime. And your room needs to be dark, dark, dark - the better to secrete your own melatonin.

She told me all about "preparing my dream space." Making an incense offering of sage, cedar, and juniper clarifies that space, and you can also add celestial crystals, whatever they are. You can get meditation CDs for insomnia, or play "sacred music," and "quietly allow your eyelids to get heavy."

Or I could go the feng shui route. Your bedroom, according to the feng shui masters, should facilitate sleep through the harmony of its elements: Use pastel colors on walls and for bed sheets. Avoid clutter (no wonder insomnia runs in my family). Never have your head or feet facing the door; your head should be facing north or east.

That ceiling fan over my bed? That's bad feng shui. Sally also adds that there should be no mirrors in the bedroom; if you have any, cover them at night. They can cause jarring reflections.

Sally doesn't always sleep well herself, and both she and I have employed the time-honored technique of getting out of bed and going into the guest room, or the vacated kids' room. I have been known to try out every single bed in our house, plus the couch. This round-robin took me hours and guess what? I was wide awake at the end.

"The comedy of it is, it could take you all night trying to get to sleep," says Sally. "You can get your cedar and juniper ready, your crystals all lined up, your tub of hot water ready for your feet, make sure your blinds are clean, your mirrors covered, fix your chamomile tea and drink it, put your face mask on, and then it's time to get up and go to work."

At any rate, I've told my husband what I want on my gravestone: "Here lies Bella English. She finally got a good night's sleep."

Bella English of Milton can be reached at english@globe.com.