The Scary Thing About Sleep

Often, in order to get to sleep, I have to force myself not to think about sleep itself. Because sleep scares me. The prospect of being unconscious, of willingly allowing myself to slip into a state of complete unawareness, really frightens me. I hate thinking about it, I hate knowing that while I’m asleep I’m unaware of what’s going on around me, and that I won’t remember the time that’s passed in the morning.

Sleep also intrigues me slightly. When we’re dreaming, are we aware of it? And do we simply forget in the morning? It’s interesting because I suppose we’ll never know.

Getting to sleep is pretty tough for me. It takes me ages to get comfortable and to entice my brain to wind down. I often find myself contemplating stressful things, and that doesn’t help at all. Having two young children to look after exhausts me, and so when I’m laying in bed unable to sleep it infuriates me because I know my body is desperate for the rest. My husband is lucky, he has the ability to literally be asleep in seconds. I envy that. Maybe it’s a skill I can learn.

Sleep is an interesting thing. I need it to survive, but sometimes I wish I didn’t because I don’t like the idea of it. I don’t like feeling unaware. I guess it’s a control thing. I don’t like giving myself over to unconsciousness and trusting in my senses to wake me if something’s wrong or requiring my attention.

But even with all the things that scare me or annoy me about sleep, I do love it. Without it, I don’t know what I’d do.

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