Divide and Slumber

"One Sleep, Two Sleep, Old Sleep, New Sleep/

Smooth Sleep, Rough Sleep, Never Get Enough Sleep "

(inspired by Dr. Seuss' masterpiece One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish)

Every now and again, sporadic history student (moi) stumbles upon a truly useful and enlightening nugget. For instance, didja know: leeches have actually been DIS-proven as medicinal aids? No need to keep saving those jars of bloodsuckers for your family doc!

Oh, wait, that’s pretty well established, isn’t it?

How about this?

Many of us find the goal of a “full night’s sleep” quite elusive. Oh, sure, we expect our newborns will awaken, shrieking, every two hours (I do that sometimes too!) But by and large, grown humans are tasked with a regular, nightly, seven-eight-hour, uninterrupted snooze-a-thon. If we don’t manage to attain this gold standard of sleepybye, it’s because we: watch TV, use our electronic devices, keep a hall light on, have a glass of wine or sugar cookie within four hours of bedtime, etc. Why didn’t we: use a sound machine? Regulate the room temperature? Meditate? Do gentle yoga? Drink warm milk? OUR FAULT, in other words.=

So, I’ve lived my three score and eight years feeling plenty darned responsible for all my wakeful nights. I picture every other adult on earth, with their nightcaps (not the alcoholic ones, the flannel kind!), snoring merrily away from 10 PM-6 AM. This image mocks my nocturnal struggles, and makes it even more likely that tomorrow my sleep pattern will be more broken than tonight's.

Enter my useful/entertaining historical nugget.

In ages past, it was the NORM for people to sleep in two segments, cleverly labeled as “first” and “second” sleep. When darkness fell, candles would be snuffed out and folks would hit the hay (often, actual hay) for a few hours. At some point, they would awaken, and stay awakened for a while. During this interval, they would scroll through their iPhones and…no! wait! They would read a book, or knit, or even prepare a meal for the next day. They’d definitely visit the outhouse. What they wouldn’t do, was feel guilty. After a time, they’d toddle back to Dreamland for Slumber, Act II.

The original cause of this pattern harkens back to prehistoric times, when it was dangerous to sleep too deeply or too long, lest one become a saber-tooth tiger’s midnight snack. Much better to be fully awake when attacked by a saber-tooth tiger, no? At any rate, millennia passed, the lightbulb and The Johnny Carson Show were invented, and suddenly everyone stayed up through the evening, and then snoozed until the milkman arrived, clattering those glass bottles. 

Knowing that truth has set me free. No longer bound to my mattress, I feel totally justified whipping up a pie at 2 AM, or writing a chapter of my novel, or walking my dog (if I had one). Night is like a delicious sandwich, with dozy bread around a wakey filling!

I’m writing this between sleeps, and I’m not ashamed to say it. History is on my side!