How many emotions do we face in the course of our sleep? Are the emotions felt and the responses provided exercise for the brain? I will use last night’s sleep as a case in point. My brain took me through a full body work out.
I settled into bed early. It was 9:30 pm. I had my tooth guard in place, cream soaking into my face, reading glasses perched on the end of my nose and a new library book in hand! I was going to bed early! It was better than winning the lottery!
Hubby poked his head in the door and said, “Mo! You have to watch CBC news. Peter Mansbridge is in town interviewing celebrities about the federal election.”
I reluctantly crawled out of bed. Placing my unopened novel on the bedside table, I trudged back to the living room. I kept the tooth guard in place as a statement I was not watching the full show. Hubby left a small corner of the chesterfield for me to squeeze in. I wedged myself in place and watched the news. It was nice to watch the city highlighted on the National news. It was a feel good broadcast. At 11:30 pm, we called it a night. I had Hubby’s footprints imprinted on my left hip, but I managed the walk to the bedroom with no more than a slight limp. No book tonight, I sighed, and crawled back into bed.
I might have fallen asleep at 10 pm, if left alone. However, at 11:30 pm I was uncomfortably awake. I can’t remember looking at the clock after 12:30. Slumber, restless slumber came at last.
At 5:00 am, I woke slightly. I was consciously willing myself to ignore the fact that Hubby had quickly escaped momentarily to return again to the covers of our bed. He made very little noise, but like most nights, his ritual managed to wake me.
I started thinking about our bed. We have a lovely King sized bed. It is a source of disagreement with Hubby who longs for our old queen sized bed. I love the king size because it has room for me to sleep like a windmill! Our new bed had multipurpose. It is higher off the floor than the queen sized bed we had before. It makes a great change table for our grandson, which saved us money. Also, a king can be dressed up as a fashion statement with more quilts and pillows. It releases my inner interior designer spirit. Admittedly, Hubby dislikes more than two blankets or two pillows, but he has gallantly learned to live with my bedroom creation.
It is true that my mind has a habit of wondering when I am consciously trying to stay asleep… I lurched to attention! I was WIDE AWAKE. It was not my intention to engage my widely active brain before at least 6:15 am.
I lay beneath the old covers in despair. The temperature had been very cool the previous night. The frost on the roof was beginning to melt and make the lazy meandering roll to the eaves trough. I am afraid said Husband “cheaped out” on the eaves trough. As the droplets hit the eaves trough they formed a noisy brigade of untuned, monotone drops that created chaos instead of melody.
My windmill tendencies commenced. I twisted and turned to the right. Throwing my leg outside the cover, I began an agitated sweat. I contorted some more, moving my head off my pillow and under the covers. Turning in despair, I tried to drown out the quick cascade of noise. I took refuge at the foot of the bed. I could still hear the drops, hitting what must have been shale rock below the downspout. Drip! drip! DRIP! I made my way back toward the head board via my husband’s side of the bed. It was a mayhem of tangled sheets. I needed air. My head emerged from below the duvet. DRIP…DRIP…DRIP! I pounded my head on the available space on Hubby’s pillow. I couldn’t stand the noise!!!!
My struggle took me back to my side of the King. I put my head on my own pillow, lying on my side. I poked my pinky finger in my exposed ear. I listened intently. I could no longer hear the drip. I realized that I would soon need a new idea for drowning out the notorious drip, as the position of my wrist and arm wouldn’t be comfortable for long. BUT I NEEDED TO SLEEP! I could have cried at that moment, but no one would have heard me. My neck began to hurt. The pain spread to my shoulder, my arm and my wrist. I placed my head beneath the pillow and in pure frustration slammed my arm over my left ear. I remembered I need to breathe, so I squirmed to the edge of the pillow and poked my nose out just beyond the edge. I naively thought that the pillow muffling would work, but I could still hear a dull drip, drip, DRIP!
I refused to get up! I lay there in the knotted sheets and discarded the pillow, feeling the sting of defeat! “No! I AM NOT GETTING UP!”
If I just relaxed….I had a brain wave! I would practice my belly breathing.I lay on my back and raised my knees.
Hubby yanked at the blankets. I got the impression he must have heard the dripping. Poor man! I promised myself that I would explain it to him at breakfast.
I got back to my breathing. I brought myself step by step through the process. Breathe to the count of eight through the nose, raise the belly not the chest. Hold the breath to the count of three, or was it four? I gave up holding at ten and slowly exhaled to the count of seven. I remembered to repeat, until I felt myself melt into the mattress.
By this point Hubby was restless. He seems to be staking out his side of the bed. He was leaning over, tracing out a line length wise down the duvet. It appeared as if he was chopping a crease through the duvet and half way down into the memory foam. What sort of ritual was this? They say that listening to drips can drive a person crazy. I think the eaves trough had finally gotten to him!
I refocused and lowered my knees slightly. Realizing this was not comfortable, I raised them again and straighten out the blankets with a quick hip raise. Hubby groaned. All Hubby’s distress was making it doubly hard for me to settle back down.
I looked at the clock. It was 5:45. Trying to fall asleep was senseless!
I rose in defeat. Hubby groaned loudly! I sighed and said,” I know sweetheart! Morning has broken again.”