Yet another night without a good sleep. As Kastarak lay in his bed, waiting for the sleep to come, all his efforts to meditate himself to peace and calm and sleep seemed to fail, being disturbed by the intrusive imagery of the destruction of his home planet, the tele-empathic sensation of billion katras dying, becoming lost, and the immediate knowledge of the loss of all his family and friends, his home, his things.

It was as if Kastarak was at that moment again, and again, and again – experiencing all of those memories as if they occurred at this given moment, the loss occurring right now, ripping his heart in a thousand pieces.

While outwardly he looked unaffected – save perhaps for slightly increased blinking – staring at the ceiling above, there was fire and turmoil within. It was not all too common for him to experience these stressful memories and experiences of trauma. Usually it would flare up maybe a few times a week for short periods of time, but now, it was the third night of intense imagery stopping him from falling asleep.

He decided he would get up. He wanted to sleep. Sleep would help the imagery calm down. If he slept every night, he could keep the intrusiveness at bay, and although he could function without several nights of sleep – he was Vulcan after all – right now, he needed full control over his sleep to cognitively and (non-) emotionally function.

Exasperated, he left his cot, put on his uniform again, and walked to the galley to see if he could have some tea or a light snack. Doing something that did not require all too much cognitive activity might help him get back to the sleepy mode.

He remembered as a child how his father would boil water when Kastarak could not sleep.

“Drink warm water, and your body will feel relaxed, and you will find it easier to control your emotions, and go to sleep. Come, I’ll show you how to do it,” his father had said when Kastarak was five or six years old.

Kastarak and his father did not go to the usual water dispenser, which could provide water at any given temperature desired, but they went out to the garden. There were bright stars above. They were living on the country side, so light pollution was kept at minimum (for a society as technologically advanced as Vulcan), and the stars were fascinating.

“There is Earth’s sun, where humans come from”, his father said pointing at a constellation.

“I believe that’s the direction of the Klingons,” his father said, pointing at another direction, “but I will have to look it up tomorrow to be sure.”

Then his father gathered dried pieces of wood from the garden bushes and plants, put them in a small clay pot (that once had housed an imported plant from a colder region, which, of course, had perished in the hot climate of Kastarak’s home area), and ignited the wood using matches (that they would normally otherwise only use for meditation). A small fire began.

“Now, it is important to control the fire,” had the father said, “so we keep some water next to us”.

Father had a small clay kettle with him, and a large crate of water probably more than half the size of Kastarak. He had also a grill of sorts that he had placed over the fire pot.

“Now, we will place the water-filled kettle on the fire pot. Once it starts shrieking, almost sounding like a roar of a le-matya, then it is ready. Then you pour it into a cup, and you drink it, holding both hands around the cup. Finish one cup, drink another one. Then you go back to bed, and then you will sleep.”

Somehow, Father had been right. This had been an excellent cure for sleeplessness. Once Kastarak got older, he understood the logic of it. Having a ritual, that is not too cognitively taxing, helps the brain come to the goal (sleeping) without being distracted by it. The fiddly gestures needed to make a small fire, boil some water, pour the water, drink one cup, pour some more water, drink another cup, extinguish the fire, clean up, and go back to bed with a warm belly did help him expunge the distressful feelings and thoughts, and helped him go to bed.

As Kastarak now walked to the galley, he remembered, not without fondness, the memories of his father helping him overcome sleeplessness in a manner that was consistent with Kastarak’s then level of logic.

He went up to the drink dispenser in the galley, told the computer to dispense him hot water in a small cup. He held the cup with two hands, sat himself down, looked at the stars outside the windows, drank the cup, went back to the dispenser, got himself another cup of hot water, went back to look at the stars, drank the water, dispensed of the cup, and then walked back to his room.

With a warm belly, he soon fell asleep, but not without thinking of some of his memories of his family. Tonight, in particular, it was the memories of Father that stood out.

Tomorrow, Kastarak promised, he would meditate over Father, and the significance Father had over his identity and development. Then the following nights, he would tick off yet another person in his former life.

– Ens. Kastarak (physician)