Yep – that’s the time I finally laid back down after EJ’s little crying fit last night. I rolled over, looked at the clock and it was exactly 4 am. The words ran through my mind “4 O’Clock in the morning and its starting to get light…” – Beverley Craven, Promise Me, circa 1991. This (in context) indicates two things to me: 1) it must have been high summer; and 2) the narrator of the story must have been young – late teens/early 20s in my opinion. At least that’s the only time in my life I would ever have still been up at that time in the morning, voluntarily. I just love sleep too much you see. And there’s the rub.
This got me musing on that beautiful, maddening, sometimes terrifying, sometimes joyous world of sleep and dreams. I googled ‘sleep’ (I know, how very unimaginative) and the first site I found provided a list of ‘fascinating’ facts on the subject.The very first sentence my eyes alighted upon read “One of the best predictors of insomnia later in life is the development of bad habits from having sleep disturbed by young children”. Oh fabulous. I love my children but now I find that not only are they filling every corner of my life with their squiffy little selves in the here and now, but they are also acting as a two-man tag team intent on destroying my future sanity by systematically dismantling the auto-sleep function of my brain. Cheers boys.
On another note, I obviously did manage to sleep part of the night because I remember dreaming that it was Christmas Day, but in the dream I had utterly failed to buy a single present for anyone. I was distraught. I’d let people down. As a rule, I am pretty susceptible to a good old anxiety dream at the best of times – I guess its nature’s way of keeping me in check – dangling the future flash-forward awful-truth reveal in front of me in order to freak me out sufficiently to urge me onwards into an existence of preparedness and organisation (or something vaguely resembling it).
I guess this means that, by my mid-fifties I will be getting no sleep and events will be creeping up on me like Kato from The Pink Panther, ready to wrestle me, unawares, to the ground. Ah well, at least I’ll have someone else to blame!