Sleep - those little slices of death, ohh how I loathe them...

Sleep - those little slices of death, how I loathe them.
~Edgar Allen Poe

Life is something that happens when you can't get to sleep.
~Fran Lebowitz

Dawn: When men of reason go to bed.
~Ambrose Bierce


If you are reading this sometime after midnight, and you have to get up in a few hours, we probably have at least one thing in common; we experience some form of insomnia. Just as the devil is the church's best friend, insomnia is the best friend of drug companies. I suspect that, other than painkillers, insomnia is the primary reason for most drug purchases. It is said that most people suffer, or will suffer, from some form of insomnia, at some time during their lives.

I do not "suffer" from insomnia. In fact, I am hard pressed to claim that I experience this malady. All I know is that, since early childhood, I have almost always been the last person in the house to go to sleep. I figure that I average five and six hours of sleep a night. Very often the number is four. If I get seven or more, I tend to be irritable the next day. There are nights I get as few as three or four hours of rest. Two or less, and I call out of work. Of course, this does not count the catnaps I now and then take. Generally, a thirty to forty five minute nap, after dinner, anywhere between two and four nights a week. That seems to be all I need. I assume I dream; but, I rarely remember them.

There is really no organic cause of my nocturnal nature. I feel it is just that: my nature. If I do not go to sleep, it is simply because I like to stay awake. I feel I will miss out on something rather important. Besides, having about fifty percent more awake time can be very helpful. To put it simply, I loathe sleep.

There is always some mental work that can be done, lying quietly at night, while the day world slumbers. There is very, very important mental work. At the age of six, this work consisted of imaging what the neighbor girl looked like naked. At the age of ten, after having been shown, by the neighbor girl, what she looked like naked; I graduated to a particularly attractive teacher. After finding my father's gentlemen's magazines, my important mental work turned to more technical matters; like, just how the hell do I get "this" into "there". As you can see, I have always been a deep thinker. My mind also went to more philosophical concerns. I thought up such gems as, if God is always watching me, does he look away when I go to the bathroom? If the soul is in my body, if I drive too fast, will it fall out and get left behind?
And, of course, if I concentrate real hard, can I astral project into the bedroom of the girl next door? I still find it useful to work out issues in the wee hours.

I have developed a theory, wishful thinking, I am sure, that the need for little sleep is a sign of higher intelligence. Consider the influential names that fall under that category.

Jay Leno gets four hours of sleep a night. I assume he is thinking about his monologue, guests he would like to have on the show, and what the woman next door looks like unclothed. Thomas Edison, and his team also slept very little. Madonna is an insomniac. I say that because she lays awake worrying, at night.

Florence Nightingale slept only four hours a night. That is the price, I guess, for having your name become a byword. Michelangelo was also in the short-sleepers club. Though I would suggest it was not the neighbor's wife that he found distracting. Napoleon Bonaparte planned world domination instead of wasting his time on sleep. Winston Churchill got six; but supplemented this with a two-hour nap. What a lazy bones. It is claimed that Nikola Tesla got only two hours of sleep a night, with several catnaps. It is also believed that he was narcoleptic, and slept with his eyes opened. So, who can really tell how much he got? Leonardo Da Vinci slept fifteen minutes every four hours. I envy that.

Margaret Thatcher and Martha Stewart each get four. Though, I would assume Martha got less while in the slammer. Whether running a dynasty or a country, there are bound to be heavy issues on one's mind. I am guessing none of them include nudity. So, you see; I am in good company. Call it insomnia if you will; but all I know is that there is plenty of time to sleep after you die.

These days, I find myself lying awake, thinking of things to write. I am not surprised. I have noticed that my sleep generally decreases that happier I am. I have been sleeping very little, of late.

So...Rise up! Cast off that victimizing label of insomniac! Embrace your inner naughty child, and defy bedtime! Leave sleep to those who have nothing better to do.
But they better be wearing pajamas, because...

I'm very curious.