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Sunday, December 15, 2019


"Sleep, those little slices of death, how I loathe them"
- Author Uknown

I've probably noted a few times in this space about the relationship I have with sleeping.  At best, I'd call that relationship one of convenience; at worst, well, it's a kind of war of sorts, all fought within the confines of my head.  

My Head, At Bedtime
"Boy, I am actually tired, this is great...I'll be able to fall asleep quickly."
Then it comes time to turn things off and actually fall asleep.  That's when my head starts telling me "crap, I don't know if I can actually fall asleep".  The good news is that I usually do fall asleep fairly quickly, but even then part of me fights it.

My Head, Asleep
"Let's get a few dozen images and tie them together in some truly surreal stories."
Saying that I can have vivid dreams is like saying "there might be a Tuesday next week".  In fact, I have vivid dreams just about every night.  Right now I can remember details of some, even those that are days, weeks or months ago.  I'll admit that here, but I won't describe them, as often they just don't make any sense; maybe they did at the time, but now I'm simply left with fragments floating around in my head, like shipwreck debris on the water.  As someone who tries to go about my life in a logical and ordered way, my dream time is chaotic and disordered.  There are times when I really don't want to go to sleep on account of not wanting to subject myself to yet another round of mental chaos.

My Head, Early Morning
"Hey, wake up!  Here are a half dozen important things to consider."
Pretty much between 5 and 6am my head grows weary of the disjointed chaos of my dream state and starts to ponder the realities of the day to come.  That's the point of no return, and by then I usually can no more fall back to sleep than I could create cold fusion in a blender.  

I'll note that I try to fall asleep around 11pm-ish, and during the week, I am up and out of bed by 6:15am.  My actual odds of sleeping a bit later are far better during the week than they are during the weekend.  That's downright cruel.

Now I have had nights where I've gotten a good night's sleep and felt refreshed in the morning.  I think that's actually happened twice in my adult life.  Twice. 

Now part of me wants to believe that one day I'll get this sleep thing finally figured out, that the adversarial relationship I have with the "little slices of death" will give way to a kind of truce.  That's a nice thought, to be sure.  Until then, the battle begins anew in about 90 minutes.  Wish me luck.

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