The Sleep Mask

Almost every night for a year now, I’ve followed the same routine. I take five milligrams of melatonin, put my phone across the room, read for a while or watch part of a movie with my husband, then turn off my light between 10:30 and 11:00. An hour later, I get up again, but this time I’m asleep. I walk around the room and out into the hallway. Typically, I am ranting, and what I’m saying centers on a perceived emergency—my kids in trouble, intruders in the house—or weirder, on surveillance devices that I’m convinced are planted around my bedroom, sinister forces watching me sleep.