A Lost Landscape

A landscape to explore.

One day I had a terrible headache and back pain. I spent most of the day sleeping with a heating pad across my forehead and ibuprofen in my gut. Finally, by late evening, my headache had subsided and, after another pill, my back was manageable. Now the only problem was that after a day of sleep, I hardly felt the need for it. It’s not uncommon for our cat Nero to bother us at night, either to feed him or just to get our attention. This particular night he was particularly bothersome, as he lurked around the bedroom trying to wake us. I wasn’t asleep, and I felt a kinship then with our nocturnal friend. At some point, Nero sat at the foot of the bed and stared at me. I looked up from my book and thought, “Hey bud, it’s you and me against the night.”

Why do we fight our nature? Some of us get up with the sun, while others are locked in a battle with the moon. The times I've fallen asleep early and found myself awake early are not common. I like to linger in the space between wakefulness and being awake. On mornings I do wake early, I like to lie there and daydream, or more accurately, morning-dream. While I lie in bed, the day still has so much potential. Being up early and not having to rush somewhere is a little blessing of its own, especially if you're the first one up in the house. I think I'm approaching that age of waking earlier. For weeks now, I've been waking before my alarm, staring at the clock thinking, "I have another thirty minutes," expecting to fall back to sleep only to realize it isn't going to happen.

Much worse is when you can't fall asleep. There are so many techniques you can read about to try and learn, but those are mostly about having a lot on your mind or worrying about something. That is very understandable, but what is more common for me is having nothing on my mind, other than the one thing that won't come: sleep. When I used to drink, it was nice to have a glass of something honey-hued that warmed your chest and soothed your head. It's easy to see how that might not be the healthiest of habits. I've replaced that these days with edibles, but even though that facilitates sleepiness, it tends to remove that wonderful descent into the loving arms of a truly satisfying sleep.

There are still plenty of days when I desperately need a nap. For whatever reason, that's when sleep comes easily. But not just sleep. It also brings that fantastical headspace where your mind wanders hither, thither, and yon. That's when you feel a heaviness, a comforting one, like a light hug that will carry you home to sleep. Part of that moment are the flights of fancy, the mini-dreams of your mind hopping from one transient thought to the next. It isn't really dreaming per se, but your mind is like a fire that is dying out, which might suddenly pop to life and throw the last few spits of sparks while ebbing and flowing slowly to its extinguishment. So many times I've enjoyed those fantasias of near sleep. It is an enjoyment of your own imagination but also a consolation of knowing sleep is soon to follow. Apparently, this state of consciousness is called hypnagogia and is an indication of the transition from one sort of brain wave to another that takes place when we sleep. I can never really take the term "brain waves" seriously. One time in the high school cafeteria, my friend and I overheard a conversation in which one incredible nerd, Bruce, was describing to another incredible nerd, Bob, the pilot episode of Star Trek in which Captain Pike, paralyzed by a space storm (or whatever), is only able to communicate through a sequence of lights. When Bob asked the intelligent question, "How could Pike control the lights if he was paralyzed?", Bruce responded with incredulity, "Brain waves, Bob!", as if it was almost too obvious to state. For years, my friend and I could always make each other laugh by exclaiming with greater and greater hyperbole, "Brain waves, Bob!!" I'm certain Bob and Bruce are probably now running companies that launch electric cars into space or something.

For years I've tried to harness this phase of brain function, not just to get to sleep, but for creative purposes. I'm not alone. Many writers, inventors, and painters of note have attempted to take advantage of the vivid visions that spring to life when the brain enters the alpha brain wave state (Snort! Brain waves, BOB! Sorry, I couldn't help myself). The MIT Media Lab has used a custom sleep tracker along with audio cues and word association to attempt to facilitate and extend hypnagogia like a scene from Christopher Nolan's Inception. I could imagine using a contemporary smartwatch and your phone to attempt the same thing.

In the description of the MIT project, the authors describe sleep as a "forgotten country of the mind," which is a surprisingly poetic notion. Perhaps it's more of a landscape than a country, with peaks, valleys, forests, open fields, mysterious clouds, and boundless skies. As tourists, it's a place we all like to visit but know from which we must return. Despite knowing we have to leave, finding and exploring that landscape is a pilgrimage many of us are on. It's a long road, but a journey worth taking. If you make it, send us a postcard.