When I was a child, my father, a Brooklyn boy with absolutely no mastery of German, would nonetheless say this to me in the morning, i.e.: “Did you have a good sleep?” “Ya, gut!” I would dutifully answer, and we would laugh.
Many people have difficulty sleeping; I’m not one of them. When I fluff my pillow and crawl under the covers it’s like going back to the womb, a quiet, warm and safe space where I can lose myself.
I’m a side sleeper, and to keep my lower back from acting up, I place a pillow between my legs and draw my knees up a bit towards my chest. It’s the posture of a baby, and I generally sleep like one. At the risk of disclosing too much information, I sleep in the nude, but as I’ve grown older, in winter I wear socks.
My late wife Norma was a lousy sleeper; she suffered from restless leg syndrome and sleep apnea; the latter meant wearing a mask hooked up to a CPAP machine to keep her breathing properly. Sometimes it helped her sleep and sometimes interfered. Unfortunately, she was often sleep deprived, which affected her energy and her mood. Nonetheless, she bravely soldiered through night after night while I slept soundly.
Sleep is such an unusual though completely ordinary event. Current science indicates that getting enough sleep is essential; the brain and body need time to recover from the active life processes of cell generation, memory formation, tissue repair, disposal of biological waste, digestion, and muscle fatigue. Being is subordinate to becoming and life is a process of constant becoming. The force that animates us is indifferent to our fixed ideas and opinions; vibrant living matter operates on its own timetable and under its own imperatives. Against a relentless force like that, of course we need sleep!
I decided long ago that if I’m going to go back to the womb every night, I want to be as comfortable as possible. I don’t like it too hot (no flannel) nor too cold (no satin), and softness is absolutely essential. Some people prefer crisp, cool sheets but I’m not one of them. I’m a cuddly guy and I like feeling cuddled in bed. When I used to travel on business, I often slept in an ugly hotel room on a crappy mattress with lousy sheets, but I slept alright because I always brought my own pillow. I can sleep in an ugly room with a lousy bed as long as I have my pillow, and I always travel with it. I’m a big baby.
I can’t examine the topic of sleep without mentioning dreaming. I have a very active dream life, often seeming busier than my waking life. Trying to find my room in a big hotel and getting lost is a recurrent and irritating theme, as is losing track of my luggage. Occasionally, the pleasant surprise of meeting up with dearly departed friends and family happens, and I’ve learned the hard way not to bring up the fact that they are dead with them; having made that error, they always turn away and our dreamworld conversation ends. Trains, planes and automobiles figure prominently; I’m often headed somewhere to do something, and thus it appears that the constant change of becoming even permeates dreaming.
All that said, I bid you “gut geschlafen” and a Happy New Year.
