Laughing Babies

Babies laughing is another wonderful therapy and it's one of the benefits of working where I work. Babies giggle and laugh to about anything you can think of and seeing and hearing them all day just puts a smile on my face.

When I'm trying to get a baby to sleep and all they keep doing is smiling and looking at me with there big eyes, it's so hard to not pick them up and play with them. Their laughs and happy expressions are so joyous and unlike adults you know they are being completely genuine.

To be a kid again and be entertained by anything imaginable would be so incredible. I wish we could all live a carefree childlike life forever, where all you have to do all day is eat, dance, laugh, and play.

Tonight the Role of Bed Will Be Played By Couch

There something great about falling asleep on the couch while watching TV. It's a practice round for the night's slumber ahead. Somehow it never lasts more than a half an hour, and when you wake up you wish you were already in bed. Instead you have to manage a half-conscious body drag through your evening rituals (like writing a blog entry, for example) with the deep taste of sleep on your tongue and a hunger to match. And a tendency toward unnecessary dramatic flair.

But it's sweet, that mild torture. It's like trying the cake batter. It's delicious and leaves you wanting, but it also promises cake.

And Daddy's hungry for some cake. The sweet, fluffy cake of unconsciousness.

But no icing. I don't like the icing.

There's Always Tomorrow Night

In homage to the fact that I'm not going to get a lot of sleep tonight let me say that there's always tomorrow night. Until you're dead, you can always catch up on sleep.

Miss two nights in a row? Not a big deal. You'll sleep well the third. Granted you'll have to get through the intervening days. To help, just keep your goal in mind, what you're pushing toward. That eventual moment when you fall asleep, stay and asleep and make up for all the deprivation you'd subjected yourself to prior.

It almost makes the make-up sleep all that much sweeter. It's like a well-earned reward instead of a humdrum regularity.

For me, tonight, my goal is Friday night. I'll be making up for most of this week. And it's going to be great.

Night Time Meds

Okay, since I'm having the worse sinus pains I've ever had this will be short one. Right now all I can think about is going to sleep so this entry goes out to all the nighttime pain meds that help you sleep and hopefully lend a hand in your recovery.

I will be taking some Benadryl Allergy meds tonight that will knock me out and clear away my sinus issues. Tylenol Cold and Sinus and NyQuil have also been lifesavers in the past. Alright give me my drugs and let me pass out now.

Lay Your Head Down

Things don't always go your way. In fact, often times things can run in the complete opposite direction. But no matter how bad things get, as long as you have food, water and a safe place to lay your head down at the end of the day, you should grateful. Grateful to whatever it is you want to be grateful to. Consider that there are a great many unfortunates that don't have some number of those three. That's when life really gets miserable.

So if you have all three, which I do, consider yourself lucky and don't take them for granted. The fact that I can curl up next to Kate as soon as I'm done writing this, with a full belly, and pass out, knowing that I'll safely wake up in the same spot tomorrow morning is more than worth its weight (figuratively speaking) in gold.

Lucid Dreaming: The Most Fully-Conscious Adventure You Can Have Inside Your Own Head Without Being Schizophrenic

Wow. I haven't thought about this topic in a long time. Ten or twelve years ago though I was really serious about it. I kept a dream journal, tracked recurring symbolism and cultivated a habit of checking my waking / dreaming state. To what end?

Becoming lucid in a dream. Becoming aware of the dream state while in the dream, generally with the aim of taking conscious control of the dream world. I'd done it before, I thought. I remembered dreams where I said to myself, "I'm dreaming." But until I actually went lucid for the first time I had no way of knowing that my previous "lucid" periods weren't real. Prior to that, my exclamations of lucidity were just lines in the script of my dream. I may have said the words, but they weren't true.

But when it happened for real, it was mind-blowing.

Training yourself to lucid dream is simple in practice, but takes a strong commitment. To start, you keep a dream journal. This helps your remember your dreams and familiarize you with your unique dreaming vocabulary. And the more you write your dreams down, the more dreams you remember. It's like exercising a muscle...or biting your lip. The more you bite it, the more you bite it.

As you keep up with your dream journal you need to start developing a habit of testing reality. What I did, and I got this from a book I read, was to, whenever I thought about it, and as often as I could, look at my watch and try to get the second hand to run backwards. I mean really try. Truly believe that it might actually happen if you work at it hard enough. If the watch refuses to cooperate, which it usually does you think or say to yourself, "I'm awake." Sounds a little ridiculous, right? But here's the rub. You train yourself to perform these reality checks habitually because eventually waking habit will make its way into your dreams. One day you'll perform a reality check and, against all expectations the second hand will run backwards. And then you'll know.

That's exactly what happened for me. After months of diligent reality checking I one day found myself in an office building. I don't remember any more what I was doing there but I knew I'd been there many times before. As I was walking down a hallway of cubicles I thought to conduct a reality check. As always I earnestly tried to more my second hand backwards. I was flabbergasted when, after a few seconds, it did! And then it dawned on me, for real this time. "I'm dreaming!" "None of this is real." As much as I'd believed, as we all do, in the authenticity of our dream worlds I suddenly knew without a shadow of doubt that it was all an illusion.

It was the closest thing I think I've come to an epiphany. The entire world around me at that moment; the people, the cubicles, my memories of the office building. None of it was real. The best way to imagine what it was like if you've never experienced it is to imagine what it would feel like if, sitting (or standing) where you are right now, with your waking world all around you and your life's worth of memories, you suddenly discovered without reservation that it was all just a product of your own mind. That none of it existed apart from you. That every item you've ever come into contact with, every conversation you've had, every friend you've ever made was just a fragment of your own consciousness.

I was ecstatic! After months of trying and being disappointed I'd truly done it. I remember I ran down the hallway toward a rear window and leaped out, without any fear. I knew I was in complete control of the universe at that moment, and I flew. It was really amazing.

I went lucid a number of times after that, but was never able to stay in the dream for very long. It's a common stumbling block, I learned. When your conscious mind invades your dreaming mind your brain seems to have difficult time resolving the two and you often wake up. That's the next step in training. Learning, over time, to maintain conscious control of your dream and stay asleep. I didn't have it in me, I guess. I enjoyed it when it happened, but I made little progress. Eventually I fell out of the habit and haven't picked it up since.

I think one day I'll get back into it. Taking conscious control of your dream can be a powerful tool. Plus it's just fun. Again, imagine suddenly realizing, right now, where you are, that the entire universe is yours to do with as you see fit. You can do literally anything your heart desires. It's a pretty potent experience. Here's something I always wanted to try. I found this exercise in a lucid dreaming book a few years book. Once lucid, you allow the dream to unfold as it normally would, without interfering and then, at pivotal points, freeze the action, approach the characters (who are ultimately just manifestations of you) and ask them to tell you, in their words, what they represent. I would make, I'd think, for some pretty interesting conversations.

I'd be curious to know if any of you have had any similar experiences. Let me know in a comment or an email or something.

Simple Pleasures, Part 2

This is the second entry to fall under the moniker, Simple Pleasures, though I'm sure it's not the second entry dealing with the subject.

As defined in Section five, paragraph two of the Blog Creation and Made Up Document Charter for this site, simple pleasures are those small moments in life, usually fleeting and entirely unpredictable, that help make the intervening time worthwhile. They don't have to be especially meaningful. They just exist as rest stops and pee breaks on the road trip of life.

One of these, for me, happens more often in the fall than any other time. The temperature is dropping, especially at night, becoming more unpredictable. You're not sure whether you should leave the air on, shut it off, or open the windows for a comfortable night's sleep. Going with the windows open saves energy but opens you to the risk of a muggy room or one a bit too warm. Or the opposite. And that's the scenario I'm talking about here.

You go to sleep with just a top sheet, comfortable. At some point in the middle of the night though, you wake up. You're cold, though your brain my only partially recognize thatt as the reason for your inability to return to sleep. You toss and turn for a while, trying unsuccessfully to pass back out. And then, happiness. You realize in your half stupor that an extra blanket is all you need to remedy things and return to that dream you were having about the battle in space with the lasers and the flying. You reach down, pull up the comforter hanging limply off the bottom of the bed. Instant bliss. The cold recedes. The goose bumps dotting your arms melt away along with your consciousness and the warmth of sleep returns.

That's a moment worth coming back for.

Even If You Can't Sleep

Last night neither Kate nor I could sleep. We tossed and turned until about 3:30 AM, at which point we got up and read for about a half hour or so. After that I think we both slept spottily until 7:00 or so. I think at that point I went out solidly for a bit, and when I woke up at 9:00, Kate was out.

So we didn't get a lot of sleep last night, but it doesn't matter because we're on vacation and we're at the beach. We can nap if we want, sleep on the beach, or, and likely both.

Three days of beach, starting now.

Afternoon Snooze (Not at Work) at Work

I don't get enough sleep. I've known this for years. Lately I've been getting up at 6:30 to either work out or write my daily entry, so I probably get five to six hours of sleep a night. For me that's enough to function fine, especially if I can make up for it on the weekends. But I always crash at some point in the afternoon, usually between 2:00 and 3:00. Given my normal-Joe work schedule, that crash always occurs at work.

It doesn't help that my edit suite is usually warmer than the rest of the office, or that my comfortable leather chair is set permanently to "recline", but neither of those are necessary conditions for my generally unavoidable daily desk pass-out. I'd probably still nod off for a few minutes in the afternoon if I was sitting on a bee's nest in the middle of a village of Arctic cannibals (to be fair though that might be because of the dart in my neck).

It just happens and I can't help it. It starts out with a general bleariness, a sort of haze that starts building up between my work and me. I find myself losing focus, unable to keep track of what I'm doing. Sometimes I'm not aware that it's happening. I just start fading in and out, redoing the same edit or re-watching the same footage over and over again. Eventually I realize that I'm fighting sleep, and that's when the fun begins. I love the changes in consciousness you go through will fighting sleep. The narrowing of your visual field. The phasing of awareness. The seeming leaps forward in time as awareness is briefly restored. The accompanying random thoughts, and the occasional mild auditory or visual hallucinations. The utter lack of control you have over your own faculties. It's all really fascinating stuff. And it culminates usually with a very brief, five minute snooze that resets my engine and reinvigorates me.

I'm usually good for the rest of the day afterwards. And I work enough overtime that I don't think anyone would begrudge me my ten minute psychedelic siesta. I don't always like being sleep-deprived, but I like what it does for my afternoons.

Restful Leg Syndrome?

I'm curious to know if any of you have this same experience. I'm not sure what to call it, but I imagine it's the exact opposite of what I imagine Restless Leg Syndrome feels like. Very rarely, like something on the order of every six months or so, I'll wake up and my legs feel really good. Like they're glowing with an inner warmth the don't normally possess. As opposed to the restlessness of RLS, my legs are hyper-comfortable. Like the muscles are super-relaxed, without an ounce of stress in a single fiber. They sort of feel as if they're getting more than their normal supply of blood, mixed with just a hint of morphine (or what I'd imagine a hint of morphine would feel like.)

I can't explain it. They just feel good, and it makes it awfully difficult to get out of bed. This morning though the feeling has continued after getting up, and I can still feel the warmth percolating through my muscles as I sit here typing. Anyone else have this experience? Like I said, it's extremely rare for me and feels as if I've awaken more rested than I've ever been. I think I'd be an infinitely happier person if I could wake up feeling this good every morning.

Drop me a comment if you've ever woken with "Restful Leg Syndrome".

Falling (And Staying) Asleep Easily

It's an extremely positive thing to be able to fall asleep when you want to, and stay soundly asleep all night. I could do neither last night, so this will be a short entry. It was strange, because I fell solidly asleep on the couch only minutes before I retired for the night. Yet once in bed, my mind wouldn't still itself. Nor would it refrain from waking me up throughout the night with useless nonsense thoughts. Thankfully this is the exception for me, not the rule. Not the part about having useless nonsense thoughts. I get those all the time, but generally during the day.

My Mom on the other hand hasn't slept soundly for years, apparently. She's always complained of never feeling rested after a nights sleep. Turns out she has sleep apnea. She just found out a week or two ago. She will likely start sleeping with a pump attached to her nose which pressurizes her throat and lungs, keeping the esophageal valve from closing and waking her up. She may finally get a good nights sleep for the first time in years.

Quiet Solitary Mornings

Most of the time, I'd rather get up with Kate. But sometimes, especially early in the morning, getting up alone to a quiet house is very nice. Especially on work days. I appreciate the time to be with my thoughts, to get myself prepared, to move slowly and methodically. I like the feeling that somehow you're stealing hours from the day that don't normally exist. Like you're existing in some sort of time bubble, sealed off from a world in suspended animation. A lone consciousness piercing a sleeping planet.

It's why I've always liked arriving really early for work, before anyone else gets in. Leaving proportionally early at the end of the day never seems to work out, though. Probably because the rest of the world is unaware of the extra two or three hours I managed to stash in a 24 hour day.

Of course it's really only special when it happens occasionally. Frequency breeds familiarity, and I'd rather sleep anyway.

The Hypnagogic State

When you're right on the border between being asleep and awake, directly before plunging into full sleep, you're mind is hypnagogic. Different people experience it differently. Some experience a very brief period of full on hallucinations, both visual and auditory. Most simply find their mind straying into strange and unusual thought patterns with brief visual flashes. That's my experience, and I think that very brief period is a gift.

It's not that I ever take a lot from the experience. You usually can't. While hypnagogic there are only two things that can happen to you. Either you fall asleep or you wake up again, quickly forgetting whatever it was you were thinking or experiencing seconds earlier. For me though, this lack of permanence is exactly what I like. I'm always struck by how ephemeral brain processes can be. One moment, enlightenment. Next moment, nothing. Profound understanding gives way to complete ignorance with the flick of a switch. Awakening from a hynagogic experience gives me that sort of profound, eerie feeling of knowing without knowing. As if I'd just worked out some deep riddle, and then wiped it from my memory.

My guess is, even if we could remember what we were thinking about, we'd discover it was just nonsense. That's the sense I get, from the little tidbits I can hold on to. It's total randomness, jumbled up and served up as illumination. Which I think is really cool, too. It shows that profundity is a feeling...a state of mind, something not necessarily tied to any particular content.

I love that.

Perfect Slumber

I love sleeping, especially when I feel completely content with my day and have little to no stress. This perfect sleep usually comes on the weekends.

I used to take naps on the couch when I still lived with my parents, and I would have the most lucid dreams. I would always know I was sleeping. I would see rats or something crawling all over the floor around me, but since I knew I was hallucinating, I would think it was really cool and trippy as opposed to being grossed out or scared out of my mind. I don't seem to do that much anymore, probably cause napping usually doesn't fit into my lame adult schedule. I do enjoy a good nights sleep, though. I've always been a very heavy sleeper. I became even more so when I lived on 1st ave in the East Village, except for the nights I would hear rats in the kitchen, real rats, not hallucinations. Those were pretty restless nights.

I could sleep 12 hours a night if I never set an alarm clock. If I don't set an alarm on the weekends I can sleep till noon. I feel really lucky to be able to do this. Lately I've been having really interesting dreams, too.

All the mom's reading this right now are saying "those days will end the second you bring a child into your life." I know you're all right about that, so in the meantime I am just going to revel in the amazing beauty sleep I can get today. Sleep tight everyone.