Idiopathic HypersomNIA: When Sleep is the Monster

The Fediverse is full of artists of any kind, and with great delight my timeline is constantly blessed by comic artists and graphic novelists. Since I’m now living in Finland and I’m trying to learn the language and artistic culture, I followed a good deal of Finnish indie artists and one that caught my attention is Hiisikolo with their neat fantasy maps. One of their comic series focuses on raising awareness on a peculiar neurological condition called idiopathic hypersomnia (that’s also the series’ title, stylized as Idiopathic HypersomNIA), which I want to talk about in this post.

The comic’s first volume, also published as paperback with the title Prison of Sleep (episodes 1-100), tells the real-life experiences, memories and struggles of Nia, a stand-in character for the artist themself, drawn across two years (2020-2022). Each episode depicts how Nia deals (sometimes successfully, sometimes not as much) with their incurable neurological condition that makes their life a constant battle against an invisible enemy from within. This reminded me of Tiitu Takalo’s Memento Mori and her detailed dive in the multiple facets of misery that a chronic illness can cause. The disease itself, at first only visible through the artist’s rendition of themselves through Nia, then begins to take its own shape: a dark, tar-like blob that takes more and more space and chokes them out of their own words and spaces.

IH’s art is always detailed and expressive, and even though the first episodes exaggerate the grotesque through the tight packing of lines and close-ups (think Junji Ito), there is a visible evolution towards softer and gentler traits across the series; the style becomes richer and more full of environmental details. I found the use of blur extraordinary, to visualize when things fall out of reach or sight from Nia, be it due to brain fog or looming slumber. The hot/dry colour palette (mostly bright orange and shades of muted browns) also contributes to the sense of despair and the worn-out rage of a neverending struggle. These feelings are ubiquitous, immediate and brunt, and they always hit hard despite the short format. Some panels are humorous, but in a dry, morbid and sometimes self-deprecating way. Colours are only used for the dream scenes (when Nia is asleep), and despite those being more visually pleasant, they only hide the weight of the curse.

A good deal of episodes focus on the interactions with other people that assume how Nia’s condition affects or limits their lives, in a way that many disabled people can probably relate with. These are always brunt and ruthless: the faceless people (mockingly named “non-sleepy”, to stress the difference and distance from Nia) have no sympathy for them, and Nia often meets them with the same lack of sympathy. The interactions with several doctors also show the struggle of communicating with a healthcare system that does not care nor take their condition seriously. At the same time, there are moments of joy, such as when the dentist does not dismiss the possible impacts of IH on the upcoming dental operation, or when Nia’s partner has the appropriate reaction to Nia’s abrupt sleepiness.

Some episodes are more shallow, like the videogame analogies that are somewhat too relatable and look more like memes from neurodivergent corners of the internet; some are more personal and tightly bound to reality, like the conflict with Ginny the Journalist who reports inaccurate news and indirectly harms Nia as well as the artist and many other hypersomniacs due to her carelessness (or callousness).

As the series progresses, the episodes focus less on the suffering and more on the strategies that Nia employs to stay functional: writing to-do things on their arm, snapping rubberbands on their wrists, mental notes drinking a lot, and more. These episodes were among my favourites, because they provide an accurate and realistic window into the daily life of someone who is affected by such an unimaginable condition that can at first sound silly, or a narrative device. But more than that, they show the equally unimaginable resilience and personal strength it takes to carry on and not just surrender to despair or isolation.

I am, in Hiisikolo’s words, a non-sleepy, and before reading their comic I had no idea this kind of rare neurological disability even existed. Reading Prison of Sleep has taught me a great deal about hypersomniacs and their struggles, and I recommend it to anyone who wants to spend a few hours in Nia’s dreadful dreams. Readers who are themselves dealing with similar neurological conditions will have plenty to relate with (along the artful depictions of the unspeakable), but I insist that especially non-sleepies should read this volume: you will wake up with a renewed worldview and empathy.

The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters, wrote Francisco Goya on the eve of the Nineteenth Century; sleep was, in his art, a metaphor for ignorance, and wakefulness was the answer. But what happens when sleep is the monster, and vigil is a struggle?

You can read Idiopathic HypersomNIA on Tapas.io or buy the paperback version, which includes more info pages and medical facts.

Notable episodes: 11 – 18 – 26 – 48 – 58 – 70 – 92 – 93 – 96