Don't you dare fall asleep!
On sleeping when you shouldn't
I have slept through many things, always unintentionally. Well, of course, it would be unintentional. Sleep always is, unless some chemical has been administered or a banned herb has been ingested.
I was a passenger in a car on one of the Swiss mountain passes, the kind with epic switchbacks that leave you gripping the door handle, fervently hoping the cars coming towards you don't contain any lunatics who've had too many espressos for breakfast and what passes for a complete absence of fear. I closed my eyes because I was scared. And then I found myself thinking, just go with the movement of the car because, let's face it, there's nothing else you can do. And so I snoozed.
Who does that? No one, according to a petrolhead friend.
The other day it was a sort of in and out kind of sleep, the head dropping and lifting again and looking at the woman sitting next to me hoping she hadn't noticed. Scene of the crime ( and it was both a cultural and economic crime) was the Harold Pinter theatre in central London, where I was supposed to be watching “Giant”, a much talked about play about Roald Dahl. My excuse - it was warm, it was dark, the seat was comfortable.
What made it an economic crime? The price of the ticket, of course.
Are you getting the picture? I sleep when I should be awake, when I should be alert, when I should be engaged.
Many years ago my daughter, who was profoundly disabled, slept through a (sitting) trampoline session but she had an excuse. I do not.
All the tried and tested methods of ensuring a good night's sleep fail. Counting sheep, darkening the room, no screens. They hold no sway.
Perhaps what I need is a bit of jeopardy, a fear of missing something if I fall asleep.
DON'T fall asleep. DON'T. Don't you dare.
Zzzzzz