

Your therapist is onto something. It is a technique that I often use and have used all my life with some undeniable level of success.
I’m something of an author and certainly a proponent of vivid imagination and imaginings: story-telling in one’s mind. Drifting away into the realm of subconscious thought is often fun and cathartic even when it doesn’t lead to drifting off and, when it does, it often precipitates those most vivid and memorable of dreams in my experience. The practice is also widely applicable in other scenarios: visualisation can help regulate emotions and cope with adversity. It can be a catalyst for arousal or passion. It can help you maintain composure when you need to perform: I use this, myself, on the tennis court, rock face, dance-floor or stage.
All of this is good. If this technique brings you more success than I and that suffices to prevent a build-up of chronic and disabling sleep deprivation, over time, then sleep well! That’s all I could wish you.
Normal sleepers cannot understand insomnia – this is the paradox.
Normal sleepers are sometimes afflicted with unwelcome wakefulness and cannot comprehend the impact insomnia has on the insomniac’s quality of life. They do not experience the loss of quality of life due to sleeplessness but they do experience the acute discomfort of unwelcome wakefulness on occasion and the drag of exhaustion, afterwards, when they’re sleep deprived and, so, they reduce the insomniac’s complaint to mere impatience with being awake or dismiss it as a lack of fortitude when feeling tired. They conclude that the cure for insomnia is falling asleep.
They fail to realise that no matter how much of a relief it may be, sleep is not the main event: an insomniac wishes to wake up and feel well rested.
With reference to my original post (that is: in this thread. elsewhere: I have written more) the ADHD insomniac wishes to wake up and feel as if, while at rest, their brain sorted the clutter within their mind that they could never have hoped to approach while awake, leaving peace and space to approach a new chapter of consciousness free from yesterday’s overwhelm.
With reference to a long period of my adult life: the insomniac sometimes doesn’t even know what “well rested” feels like. They live in a world that stresses productivity and resilience and fortitude and overcoming hardship through determination. They’ve been rising at the wrong time of day since their teens, needing to be at school at the earliest hours, and indoctrinated into believing that that is normal. They drink six cups of coffee before noon and wonder why their hand shakes when they try to write. They quip: “sleep when you’re dead.” They think they were born ready and will answer every call. They sink into depression. The insomniac does not know that there is any other way to live until that RAM… ¬
Your analogy with RAM is apt; I’ve made it, myself, before. Do you know what a process can do when it runs out of RAM? I’ll spare you the details. But that’s what happened to me. I’m OK, today.
Or, rather, I’m not OK but I have achieved a very poor and shoddy steady-state that is keeping me alive and affords me a few nights of sleep per week. This is the hard-restart every five-to-seven days that lets me clear the RAM but I feel that the memory-leak goes untreated and remains an intrinsic foible or my individual ADHD melange. I continue to seek a better and more sustainable solution but I am up against a system that does not understand that about which I write so many words, so passionately.
I know how to make certain cogs turn in the machine and the machine prescribes pills. Pills are a mixed bag. The vast majority do nothing of use and cause unwanted side-effects. Of those I have tried, those that induce sleep with any degree of efficacy do so in a way that meets only the normal sleeper’s needs: they facilitate falling asleep but do not lead to awakening well-rested or improved quality of life the day after. They do not allow my ADHD brain to dream and sort and sift my thoughts like I feel natural slumber allows.
There is one exception but even it is highly stochastic – sometimes failing to have any effect at all. It’s also addictive and has a non-zero street value so I can only get it prescribed in quantities that allow me to take it about once or twice a week – hence my steady state. (I am loath to complain because I am still alive and doing science.)
In case my vague description of “quality of life” is hard to parse, here’s another anecdote: having any chance to sleep intensively, even once or twice a week, has all but cured a growing alcohol addiction that I frankly didn’t notice. I was approaching a bottle of cheapest wine a night, alone. I drink no more than half a dozen beers a month, now. I did not join a movement or group or start a twelve-step programme. I acknowledge that these groups and twelve-step programmes are disproportionately effective and save countless lives but, for me, they were not needed after I realised that I actually enjoyed experiencing and remembering the best moments in my life when I felt awake and vigorous enough to be present for them and, conversely, I did not enjoy being drunk and missing them, throwing up, falling over in the middle of city streets while walking home (across the entire city because I was too drunk to do anything else) and having nothing but a headache the next day.
Alcohol doesn’t make me sleepy, either. I did not turn away from alcohol because I had substituted it. It never served that purpose. If anything, alcohol makes me irritable and fidgety and hyperactive in a restless and annoying way – not sleepy.
I set the bottle aside simply because I started having fun, being awake, and forgot about drink. Quality of life means being awake and aware of waking life and that distracted me from the vice. I still drink, very occasionally, but only when “life” happens to coincide with an event that lends itself to enjoying a beer – after a few hours in the bouldering gym, on a sunny Saturday afternoon, for example – seldom, appropriate to occasion, and by choice, never by habit.
This is why this topic is dear to my heart and I wrote the original post. I’ll be the first to admit that I have drifted from the point, here, but, perhaps, you find this intriguing to read, too. (I’ve just ended another trial with different antidepressant medication that was supposed to also assist with insomnia – the outcome was disappointing on all counts – and also just ended yet another season of psychotherapy, also with disappointing outcomes, so I was in an opinionated mood when I chose to reply.)
If your imagination proves able to lull your mind – sleep well. The exercise is never bad.
You have my attention if you choose to write more but there is no need: you have thanked me, enough, truly. Write more, if you are so inspired, or invest that energy thanking others, elsewhere. We need that, today, more than ever.