Sleep has been confusing to me since I was a kid.
I remember the pleasure I derived from learning how to wink, which gave me the superpower of sending a silent visual code to someone when we had a joke or secret that we shared. But shortly after that, my dad announced (after a big Sunday lunch) that he was going to “take forty winks” and headed for the bedroom. Did he have forty friends there, eager to share jokes?
Even all these years later, now that I understand that the expression almost exclusively refers to naps, I remain confused as to why it’s FORTY winks. I’ll go out on a limb here and suggest that the “winks” actually mean “minutes.” Doesn’t forty seem like the perfect number of minutes for a siesta?
I also remember that an adult once kindly inquired how I had slept the night before. I already knew at my young age that it would be rude for me to answer, “How would I know? I was asleep!” But I had no idea why he would be asking about something so boring as being unconscious overnight. For me, sleep was just some kind of time machine that magically transported me from my annoyingly early bedtime to tomorrow’s yummy breakfast.
Only in middle age did inquiring about sleep become such an enthralling topic. How often do we question a loved one not only about how they slept but also how long and how deeply—were they sleeping or just dozing? Was the sleep interrupted, and if so, how long before they fell asleep again?
Also in adulthood, when sleep may include sharing it with someone you love, the whole scary notion of snoring rears its ugly, noisy head. What could be worse than being unconscious and yet still annoying your beloved with log-sawing or (God forbid) drooling? How true it is that when you laugh, the world laughs with you, but when you snore… you sleep alone.
And then there’s the anxiety of perhaps muttering something embarrassing during a dream. As a professor, I occasionally experience a twist on this phenomenon when I notice that I am talking in my students’ sleep!
On those rare occasions these days when I decide that I probably could do with less sleep than my cherished eight hours, I remind myself of one terrible night at least 25 years ago. I was beyond frustrated by my new-fangled computer. I stayed up the entire night because a brand new lecture of mine was trapped inside it and would not come out, no matter what desperate actions I tried.
The next morning, I called my “computer guy” — a former student and computer science major who owed me big time for passing him, in spite of the worst essay on Great Expectations I have ever read. (Trust me, the competition has always been fierce in this category).
Although I now remember his suggestion and use it countless times, this was the first time I’d heard my geek say, “Try turning the computer off and then on again.” Yeah, right — but it worked! I dragged myself through the rest of the seemingly endless day, having had no sleep, and feared it would take a week to feel normal again. But I slept nine hours that night and woke up completely refreshed.
As I was cheerfully brushing my teeth after my divine sleep, I was still astounded that something as simple as my computer geek’s advice could have such a perfect result. If only life’s problems could be solved so effortlessly, I thought.
And then it hit me. Life indeed does operate on this same simple principle of my first computer. How many times have we been down in the dumps, only to have a wise family member or friend suggest, “Go to bed and you’ll feel better tomorrow”? That advice is just the human version of “Did you try turning it off and on again?”
Being a lover of English history and the English language, I was fascinated to discover that this sage advice is far older than I thought. In 1519, when King Henry the Eighth was only 27, his most trusted civil servant, Thomas More (the “Man For All Seasons”), used it. At a chamber council meeting that year, no decision was reached on an especially thorny issue. More suggested to his young king that they all “sleep on it” and settle it next morning. It was the first time in history that the phrase appeared in writing.
And more than 500 years later, we are still using it. And the wise among us know that when many are frantically trying to solve a problem by commanding themselves to “just do SOMETHING,” the best alternative might be eight solid hours of just doing nothing.
Email Elliot at huffam@me.com or click here