To sleep…

To sleep, perchance to… wake up refreshed.

Generally speaking, I’ve always slept pretty well.

Granted, often not enough on any given night, but still well.

There have been a handful of times of high stress when I have passed more time than I’d like staring at the darkened ceiling trying either to fall asleep or to fall back asleep having woken in the early hours.

But generally I’ve always slept pretty well.

And, for the most part, I’ve also slept dreamlessly. At least, those occasions when I clearly remembered dreaming (though usually not the content of the dream itself) were few and far between.

And then there have been the last few weeks.

Not every night, but several times a week, and sometimes several nights in a row, I have had some quite odd dreams. More strangely, I have even remembered bits of them on waking, just snippets but even so…

Then there have been the nights where I have been drifting off to sleep and suddenly had an instant of realisation that, actually, I am not drifting off to sleep, I am in fact fully awake and just trying to fool myself into thinking I am going to fall asleep. This has been followed by either watching the next hour and a half tick by on the projected time on the ceiling or — the last time it happened — giving in, putting the light on low and reading the end of my book.

I would normally associate periods of broken sleep with times of stress, but I have no more sources of stress in my life right now than I have had in the last year.

I really have no idea what has prompted this unwelcome spate of disturbed nights.

I do know that I would dearly love to simply fall asleep tonight and wake up feeling refreshed tomorrow morning.

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