Waiting until before I go to bed to write these posts is not ideal. I’m doing my best to try to stay awake and write this. Ideally I’d write these when I’m wide awake, but I’m busy doing other things then, like thinking about napping. I have a long and intimate relationship with sleep. And in that sleep, what dreams may come? Often anxiety dreams, usually a recurring one (or variation of one) in which I awake in the dream realizing that I have little time to submit an important assignment. Completing that assignment is impossible in dream land, extending that anxiety into the night. I also regularly have a dream where I realize that I’ve missed courses in high school, and I need to go back and retake them. The idea that I’ve already graduated college makes no difference as I resign myself to being a 35 year old high school student. No real conclusion here, just stating my love of sleep.
Ok. I actually wrote this blog post in the middle of the night on a scrap of paper. I think it still counts even if I didn’t post it until now.
I go through phases of poor sleep hygiene, and I’m in the middle of a nasty one now. To me the phrase means disrespecting my bedtime and instead falling asleep on that wonderful mistress, the couch. I’ll wake up some four hours later and stumble upstairs, where I’ll brush and floss and retire to my actual bed. Now fully awake, I’ll lie in bed with my mind wandering among subjects, a return to sleep at least an hour down the line. The next morning I’ll awake more tired than usual, as the night before I split my REM sleep in half and probably cut an hour out of the full duration. This inevitably leads me to another sleepy evening at the sweet bosom of the couch, the act of walking upstairs and brushing my teeth too onerous to give honest thought, thus continuing the cycle. To break this cycle and return to a good night’s sleep takes will power or some other external force like a townie cat fight outside that’s too riotous to ignore. And so I lie here in bed tonight, praying to the god of my life, the couch, begging it to release my soul from its coffers and return me to the land of the restful sleeping.