A Dream with the power to poison Sleep

Asleep I saw a man, tall and thin with a mass of black curly hair, clad in a long leather coat.  I followed him down a street much like the one I grew up in to a house similar to my childhood home.  

I followed him in, up the stairs to the attic, floating all the way to the top of the house.  

There I saw the man crouched over a hole, up through which shone a little light, but not enough for me to see his face.  Over the hole he dangled a long wire before threading it through to the room below, removing a small bottle from his pocket and carefully applying drops of its contents via a pipette onto the wire, allowing them to travel slowly down.

Some part of my mind remembered something and I jumped back down to the landing and rushed toward my old bedroom and bunk where I found my young self asleep and dressed as Wee Willie Winkie, a candle burning on my bedside cabinet.  I was too late, or, rather, just in time to see a drop enter my mouth and the candle gutter out.

As the dream began to end and I fought between waking and sleeping, I turned to see the figure I had followed standing in the doorway.  

He wore my face with darkened eyes, paler skin and a wicked, twisted grin that mocked me as I lost my battle to stay there.

I have not slept since.

*

Initially I stuck to my normal routine and stayed in bed, tossing and turning, yet never getting tired enough to fall asleep; but that passed and I got more annoying.  

I had this weird horny phase and started to bother my wife for sex several times a night. Some of the time this was fine and lovely, fantastic in fact, but mostly I was nothing but a sex pest. 

So I tried instead to keep myself busy at nights, moving from one activity to another like fads: watching box sets, writing stories, reading, building models, jigsaws, DIY, even.... as quietly as I could, until I disturbed my wife and neighbours too many times.  

Almost always alone, of course. By day I made the most of human contact because by night I was completely alone.  Each little hobby was a necessity to keep myself busy and sane until morning.

I suppose I could have worked two jobs- a cabbie, perhaps, but the safety of home seemed preferable. A creature of the night I had become but the night outside was something I did not trust and did not want.

Eventually I came almost full circle to a state where I would sit in the dark all night remembering my last dream and wondering if there was a way to cure Sleep, assuming he wasn’t gone forever, or to find Dream and gain the answer.  But he does not come to me and I think of nothing.  Perhaps always I’ll be afflicted.

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Written for the Light and Shade Challenge from the written prompt, from Shelley's Mutability, A dream has power to poison sleep.