The Art of Sleeping

Before I retired I made sure that the house had everything it needed, especially my captain's cabin bedroom. The room was designed to double up as an infirmary. It is extremely narrow, so narrow that, if I held up both arms in the middle of it, one hand would touch one wall and the other, its opposite. Almost everything, therefore, is within reach. I also could not collapse on the floor--should I have to collapse, I would do so, instead, on the bed, which I purchased from stage actress Naty Crame-Rogers years ago; it is a carved, wooden, Thai bed.

Every family member's bedroom is the most important room in the house. Mine has four doors: one that leads to the studio lounge, near the rest room; another that leads to the porch of the house's rear entrance; a third that leads into the service passage to the kitchen; and a fourth, small one, that leads out onto the driveway. I have two windows: one that looks out onto the small loggia and the security guardhouse and another that looks out onto the service passage. The walls are filled with shelves on brackets; the brackets above the bed can be used to hang dextrose bags from, since I envision myself not dying in hospital. I have been heard to joke, though I was serious, that the driveway door is the most convenient exit for my cadaver.

I consider my room complete: it has three sources of electrical lighting and outlets on all walls. It has everything I feel I need: an air-conditioner and an electric fan, a water dispenser, a desktop computer, a swivel-screen TV, a rolltop writing desk, an armoire with a full-length mirror, a tallboy, a hat and umbrella stand, and a trunk. The latest purchases were a Canon camera and a Samsung Galaxy that functions as a clock, alarm clock, radio, calendar, and notepad.

The room wasn't totally designed for dying in, though--it was designed for sleeping, because I believe that sleeping is an art. One sleeps well in a clean, quiet, womb-like place. The colors of the walls and the ceiling must be relaxing, rather than energizing, to the eyes. After appointing the room's primary features, one must determine how to surround oneself with one's favorite things--"toys" to take visually as one drifts off to sleep. An interesting night light helps. So would an air-tight snack box. And, definitely, a side table or box that can accommodate as many things as possible, including one's journal and pen and a favorite book.

Always locate your bed against a wall; it is a great thing to pile pillows on and snuggle against. A room floating in the center of a room gives one a sense of insecurity. A headboard and a footboard allow you to sit up in bed to read, write, or eat, and prevent pillows and blankets from slipping off to the floor. And oh--never locate your bed near a window, because your bed is where you need to psychologically retreat rather than be on the edge of action.

It is wrong to sleep inside a room that has nothing. That would be tantamount to sleeping in a transients' inn. Choose your pillows well; a hard one, a soft one, and two throws. Choose your bedside mug well, too--it will serve you for years and years.

Be happy with your bedroom. If you are not, you won't be happy in your dream world also, and consequently, in your waking life.