Sleeping is complicated.
The strategy involved to ensure a good night's rest is, as I become older, more and more complicated and, to be honest, rarely ensures success.
I know I no longer achieve the deep, saturated sleep of my youth based on the fact that not only do I hear the clock click away the hours until sun rise but when I do manage to fall into something resembling sleep, I have insane, convoluted dreams which I remember to the point where they cloud my conscious mind as well as indicate that my brain has not entered the deep (and, therefore, restful) delta phase of sleep where dreams do not occur.
|This is the refreshing stage of|
dreamless sleep I crave.
For example, I recently dreamt that Justin Timberlake tried to cut in line at the "public ovens" where I and hundreds of others had lined up to do our baking, with the intent of stealing the ingredients for an apple pie from me. Needless to say, I awoke that morning agitated and not caring about his damn suit and tie one bit.
Often there are other impediments to a good night's sleep....
|Who the heck could sleep|
one of these?
Seth has compared me to the subject of a fairy tale in which a princess was unable to sleep despite many mattresses being piled atop a tiny pea due to her delicate nature since, long ago, I was unable to sleep and in the morning, discovered that a small Lego block had made it into the bed.
Seth thought this was hilarious because one, I have never been remotely accused of having a delicate nature and two, he had once slept an entire night while directly on top of the remote control for the TV. As if that's something to be proud of.
The other night, however, I may have proved his theory.
Exhausted, I went to be bed in the perfect state of sleep-readiness, slipping between the cool yet cozy sheets in happy anticipation of how I would finally wake up refreshed and rejuvenated. This was going to be great!
|Get away from my pie supplies, Justin!|
I actually fell asleep right away but soon awoke in a state of discomfort. No, that cleptomaniac Justin Timberlake was not trying to steal my apples and cinnamon again but I just could not get comfortable.
The room was the perfect temperature and I was very drowsy yet something prevented the deep slumber I craved and I tossed and thrashed, plotting bitterly against Seth and his peaceful breathing.
In the morning, exhausted and creaky, I found the culprit that had kept me up: there had been a single pumpkin seed in bed with me all night.
Flatter than the pea that had kept the princess awake in the fairy tale, I now wondered if Seth might be right about a delicate nature.
Unfortunately, mine seems to reveal itself only in ways that do not count since in my waking hours I plod through life smoking a pipe and wearing the attire of a lumberjack.
Okay, not really. There is no pipe or plaid flannel but if I am so damn delicate that a pumpkin seed keeps me awake, then shouldn't I have a 17 inch waist and a tinkling laugh like Scarlet O'Hara before the war?
Shouldn't I be wearing hoop skirts or something?
|Sometimes I feel like this...|
|but, inside, might be more of this....|
When he's not stealing other people's stuff, he's pretty entertaining.