Carol’s Column

To sleep perchance to dream

You know, sleep is not a natural phenomenon whatever the experts say. This was confirmed by an article I read saying that almost everyone, at some stage or another, has difficulty sleeping. Every mother in South Africa will identify with me when I state that mothers were not intended to sleep. We have inbuilt and external mechanisms to ensure that we never have a decent night's sleep.

It begins with birth when for some reason, every father in the land develops chronic selective deafness.

You know the scene.

The mother: Dig, dig. "The baby's crying." The father: "Grunt." The mother: "Little Barry's crying." The father: "Snore, snore." As life proceeds, so does sleep elude you. An external mechanism, disguised as a little boy, presents himself at your side of the bed. Why? Because he knows you're alive. He knows the other mound in the bed is as dead as a long-gone Egyptian pharaoh.

"Ralph, there isn't a gorilla with luminous orange teeth in your room. Yes, of course, I'll come and search with you." The mound sleeps on.

Later it's the lying in bed worrying about sons and daughters out doing whatever it is that teenagers do. In fact the thought of what they do keeps you awake for the entire night.

Even on the odd occasion, perhaps a Saturday or Sunday afternoon when everyone's out and you think you can sneak in a nap, the phone rings, the ticket summons man arrives, somebody wants to save your soul. Or your neighbour has a chicken bone stuck in his throat and is choking to death. "Help, help."

However, to get back to that article. It said that if you keep your head warm, you'll fall asleep immediately. Apparently brains need warmth which makes them sleepy.

Fancy that, all these years I've been going to bed in fluffy thermal nighties and bed socks and I'd got it all wrong.

Last night, I leapt into bed naked from the neck downwards.

"Good heavens!" yelled my husband. I haven't seen him jump so high since the day he played basketball on the beach at Sodwana and ricked his back. "What is it?" "It's me," I said. "Don't you recognise me?"

"How can I recognise you when you're wearing a fat balaclava?" he snorted.

"This is not a fat balaclava. It's a balaclava stuffed with cotton wool that I am wearing in order to keep my brain warm and get a good night's sleep." "This bed is too small for you, me and your head," said my spouse. "I'm sleeping in the study."

Do you know, it really works. I had the best night's sleep I've ever had.

Is it because my brain was warm or is it because my bed was peacefully empty?

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