A Post about Sleep

When Butterfly sleeps on my bed, instead of on the floor, or the bathmat, or the rug, etc, she sleeps next to my head, stretched out against her pillow, kicking me in the face. She may have restless paw syndrome.

Here she is, getting ready to kick Cricket in the face.

Cricket is less of a kicker and more of a body blocker. She prefers to sleep either on top of me, so I can’t move, or squashed up against my back and gradually pushing me off the bed. I don’t (quite) believe that her intention is to do me bodily harm, she just doesn’t like to wake up and find even a whisper of space between us, so she keeps encroaching until I have nowhere left to go.

Cricket is a very good sleeper, as long as she’s attached to a person.

There was a spate of articles recently about how having a dog sleep on your bed makes for bad sleeping. It is, actually, possible that having Butterfly kick my head interrupts my ability to sleep well, but I wouldn’t know, because I’ve never slept well. I take Benadryl or Tylenol pm every night just to get to sleep, and I seem to fling myself around a lot while I’m sleeping. I gave up on using a top sheet because it always ended up wrapped around my feet or dumped on the floor.

As a kid, I would stare up at the ceiling tiles and follow the swirls with my eyes, like walking a labyrinth, trying to put myself to sleep, but it didn’t work. Then I’d start counting down from a hundred and then down from a thousand. I spent a lot of time counting small, fluffy sheep, which might explain why I have two small fluffy white dogs now.

Counting fluffy puppies.

I feel better knowing the girls are nearby, either on the bed or next to it, because I imagine they could protect me from harm, or at least wake me up in time to protect myself. And it’s a relief to know that if I’m up at 3am, one of the dogs will notice and come to visit.

I sleep better during the day. I would be much happier with a series of naps throughout the day instead of one long sleep at night. My dreams during the daytime naps are usually less ferocious than night time dreams. The light in the room seeps into the dream, and other noises like lawn mowers and traffic and fire engines, seem to make lighter dreams as opposed to the deafening silence of the nighttime.

It’s probably fair to say that I am afraid of the dark. I’m not particularly frightened by rats or spiders or even snakes, but any one of those things crawling near me in the dark could give me a heart attack. Though puppies never scare me, no matter what time of day.

Even this face couldn’t scare me.

My ideal of sleep would be that I could put my head down on my pillow and feel cozy and comfortable, and with no effort at all, and no long list of anxieties for the next day, I could just fall asleep. And then I would remain asleep and maybe dream of some pleasant vacation where people are smiling and happy, and everyone likes me, and I like everyone. And then I’d wake up, after a full night’s rest, and I’d feel refreshed and comfortable, not in pain, and I’d be happy and looking forward to the day to come.

I’ve had that once or twice, so I know that it’s possible. It’s just not especially probable.

There’s a computer in my brain that keeps track of the unconscious work that needs to be done overnight, and either its processors are not working at full speed, or, more likely, there is too much work to do in the allotted time, so I often wake up exhausted and feeling like there’s something I was supposed to do, but I have no idea what it is. Luckily, that’s when the dogs come to tell me it’s time to go outside, and then it’s time for treats and playing, and by then I’m awake and things are looking up.

“Are you up yet?”