My first year out of college I worked the weekend graveyard shift at a 24-hour copy shop near the University of Nebraska. I’m a lifelong insomniac and generally lousy sleeper so this was an obvious thing to do. Plus I earned a $1/hr. bonus for the graveyard shift.
But even as a practiced nonsleeper the graveyard worked me over. I often found myself fantasizing about sleep, the way most 22-year-olds fantasize about sex. What time of day? How fluffy is the bed? Is there an open window? Oh yeah baby mmm you know how I like it … How about:
- … in a hammock by a brook, with a cold beer?
- … under dusty pine trees at my archaeology field school site, freshly-showered, while the sun sets?
- … on a couch by a roaring fire while a heavy quiet snow builds outside the windows?
My favorite however, was:
- In a firm bed next to a door opening onto a balcony overlooking the ocean. Preferably in the Pacific Northwest, a place I had visited only once but could imagine down to the smell.
Last week on the beach I wrapped Ada up in the carrier and walked along the tideline. She was asleep within two minutes. I know the feeling.