"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
but now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
why, I do it again and again."
~ Lewis Carroll
Lying on the bed while reading a book was a big mistake. Mind you. I do know that it is bad for the eyes but I am referring to something else… Merely halfway through the first page of the book had my eyelids drooped down under the weight of lead. In a matter of minutes, I was on my way to slumberland, again.
For some unknown reason, sandman has been preying on me recently, sprinkling sand in my eyes whenever I try hard to concentrate on work. I do appreciate him doing so in the night when I go to bed, but for goodness sake, not in the afternoon when I have lists of work to do or in the middle of a somnolent lesson. Why, oh why does he have to pay me a visit during unseemly hours? Argh! Does he really need to work overtime?
It is said that a normal person of my age needs no more than eight hours of sleep a day. But believe it or not, I don’t find it a problem sleeping for a twelve-hour marathon! It is either the statistic is disputable or that I am subnormal. Whichever it is, I prefer the former.
So, imagine my awe when my insomniac friend complained of being unable to go to sleep for quite a number of days when he returned form Goa during the holidays. To be frank, sleeping may be an indulgence but it is a luxury when you have datelines to meet. That explains why I was quite envious of my friend. Think of what he could do with the extra hours! Surfing the Internet, playing games, reading novels, writing blogs, going out for fun.
Meanwhile, give me an extra hour and I will spend the twenty-fifth slumbering. But i've had my odd "sleepless" nights(Tonight just being one of them). Having counted every animal on Old Mc Donald’s farm, from chickens to sheep, I still could not get to sleep. So, I lay on the bed from 1 AM (my usual bedtime) till six and was so nervous of what was happening to me. I felt totally tireless as if I had just taken a stimulant of some kind.
But then, that is just an unusual day out of the nineteen springs I have been through. Usually, going to sleep is no mean feat at all. The problem lies with trying to wake up. You see, sometimes I feel more like home in dreamland, or slumberland as I call it. Don’t talk to me about interpreting hidden messages of strange dreams. To me, the more ridiculous they are, the more amusing I feel. Imagine living in a magical realm where you can control the outcome of everything, or a place where you can defy gravity. Ha! That would surely make Newton turn in his grave!
The point is, in the realm of slumberland where the world of logic collapses, everything is possible and nothing is ridiculous. I know exactly how Alice felt when she was trapped in wonderland with a bunch of psychos. Father William stood on his head; March Hare reminded Alice that “it's very easy to take more than nothing”; the Queen demanded to “sentence first – verdict afterwards”. Everything is nonsensical and boggles the mind. That is exactly what makes a dream, a dream.
