Laura on Life

On my pillow-cloud

By Laura Snyder

[July 19, 2008]  You know that place where you are truly asleep, not just lying down with your eyes closed and your ears open, waiting for a crisis? It happens so rarely. Your pillow transforms into a soft cloud, cradling your head, and the sheets feel like heaven. You are neither too hot nor too cold, and every brain cell is enveloped in a dreamy haze.

That's where I was this morning. I was blissfully unaware of the daylight creeping through my window and never heard my husband get up. So deep was my slumber that drool was dribbling down my cheek and saturating my pillow-cloud.

Through the pastel-colored haze of my dreamless sleep, a voice thundered.

"Are you sleeping?"

To be fair, my husband probably spoke in his normal tone of voice, but it sounded like a sonic boom.

Startled, all the muscles in my body tensed at the same time and I jumped about a foot off the bed. That movement let a blast of cold air into my cozy blanket-cave. I became aware of the drool on my pillow-cloud, and I vaguely remember thinking, "Did someone spill milk on my pillow?"

When you sleep so deeply, your brain temporarily empties itself, so upon awaking, you initially think you have absolutely nothing on your schedule today. What a great feeling that is! You think you can somehow capture that pastel-colored fog again and stay there all day.

Except ... there's this sonic boom in my bedroom that won't go away.

"Are you hungry?"

I throw my wet pillow at him. "Are you insane!?"

Maybe I am, I thought. Now I have no pillow-cloud on which to cradle my empty head.

"Get up, will you? We have to sign papers at the bank in 45 minutes."

I groaned as I felt the pain of hundreds of pieces of information flooding into my brain. I just wanted my pillow-cloud back so I could cover my head and stop the flow.

First the bank, then grocery shopping, dentist appointment, pay bills, drum lessons and what can I make that everyone will eat for dinner? If I can hunt down a baby sitter, my husband and I could go out for dinner and the kids could eat the TV dinners. Let's see, Susie has driver's ed tonight. Wendy's on vacation. Eliza has a boyfriend.

Stop! I just want to stay in my blanket-cave a little longer. It's so ... yummy. But no, it's too late. The brain haze has been penetrated. I have to get up.

Still lying on my stomach, I swing both legs over the side of the bed with a groan, unwilling to leave the incredibly warm softness. OK, legs are out. Now comes the tough part: raising the rest of my body from its comalike state.

Using superhuman strength, I push on the bed until I am upright and sit on the bed, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and the drool off my cheek. One last regretful glance at my little piece of heaven and I'm off to start my day.

It worries me, sometimes, how much I wanted to stay in that bed. It makes me think that if I were ever bedridden for some reason, I might not mind so much.

[By LAURA SNYDER]

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