Monday, July 20, 2009
Going To Sleep With Socks On
I usually hate going to sleep with socks on.
I usually hate going to sleep with most of anything on.
But there are also those times, liek the other night, when I decided to put on my jeans and tshirt, and fall asleep that night. I slept fully clothed.
And tonight I decided to wear socks to bed. Sleep.
If there's one thing I've learned as I've been growing up, it's that I am habitually inconsistent.
I feel liek I'm an old-fashioned, old-habits-die-hard kind fo guy, but I know for a fact that I can drive the pople closest to me crazy with my inconsistency.
One day, I'll say that I like to have the blinds open so I can view the world, and feel a part of it all, and go on and on and on and on and on, and so on.
The next day I'll say, I hate the world. I want to live in a box, in a dark room, with only alarm clocks, TV's, and computer screens and the occasional lamp to light my way.
When I as young, I had the worst time going to sleep. As I got older, the problem became that I just couldn't go to sleep, but when I was younger the problem was the time from getting tucked in, and Mom or Dad closing the door, until that eventual going-to-sleep that you never remember happening in the morning.
But that period of time was the worst. I had/have a waaaay too overactive imagination. Monsters or (because I read so much) horrific mythological creatures would be lurking somewhere, I just knew it, waiting to catch me off my guard. I don't know what I would've done, had they attacked, but I still kept close watch.
Or I would seek means of security through building walls around myself, made of stuffed animals, dinosaurs, and pillows.
My parents chocked it up to youthful eccentricity, I guess, why the heck I needed so much stuff on my bed at night. I guess that's what it was, but whatever. Of course, every night, my comfy architecture did it's job, and made me feel at ease enough to fall alseep.
The worst was when my imagination discovered that unseen threats existed as well.
My mind, influenced by movies, could only call them ghosts, or... poltergeists. Yeah, I knew that word. And it haunted me. Pun.
For years I had horrible nightmares in which my worst waking fears would come true. To a 20 year old, they might bring a chuckle of described, but even though seemingly comical now, they still bring a chill to my spine.
One of my favorite remedies was when I decided I wanted a dog. Or twelve. I had twelve imaginary dogs. I can't remember all their names; Chiri, Taco, Goldie, Lassie were a few. And I would imagine where they all were sleeping. On the floor, at my feet, or by my side.
And they'd keep watch over me.
I've never had a dog before, but I've almost had twelve.
So I wonder if wearing socks is a little subconscious remedy to my nocturnal fears. OR my feet are just cold.
I usually hate going to sleep with most of anything on.
But there are also those times, liek the other night, when I decided to put on my jeans and tshirt, and fall asleep that night. I slept fully clothed.
And tonight I decided to wear socks to bed. Sleep.
If there's one thing I've learned as I've been growing up, it's that I am habitually inconsistent.
I feel liek I'm an old-fashioned, old-habits-die-hard kind fo guy, but I know for a fact that I can drive the pople closest to me crazy with my inconsistency.
One day, I'll say that I like to have the blinds open so I can view the world, and feel a part of it all, and go on and on and on and on and on, and so on.
The next day I'll say, I hate the world. I want to live in a box, in a dark room, with only alarm clocks, TV's, and computer screens and the occasional lamp to light my way.
When I as young, I had the worst time going to sleep. As I got older, the problem became that I just couldn't go to sleep, but when I was younger the problem was the time from getting tucked in, and Mom or Dad closing the door, until that eventual going-to-sleep that you never remember happening in the morning.
But that period of time was the worst. I had/have a waaaay too overactive imagination. Monsters or (because I read so much) horrific mythological creatures would be lurking somewhere, I just knew it, waiting to catch me off my guard. I don't know what I would've done, had they attacked, but I still kept close watch.
Or I would seek means of security through building walls around myself, made of stuffed animals, dinosaurs, and pillows.
My parents chocked it up to youthful eccentricity, I guess, why the heck I needed so much stuff on my bed at night. I guess that's what it was, but whatever. Of course, every night, my comfy architecture did it's job, and made me feel at ease enough to fall alseep.
The worst was when my imagination discovered that unseen threats existed as well.
My mind, influenced by movies, could only call them ghosts, or... poltergeists. Yeah, I knew that word. And it haunted me. Pun.
For years I had horrible nightmares in which my worst waking fears would come true. To a 20 year old, they might bring a chuckle of described, but even though seemingly comical now, they still bring a chill to my spine.
One of my favorite remedies was when I decided I wanted a dog. Or twelve. I had twelve imaginary dogs. I can't remember all their names; Chiri, Taco, Goldie, Lassie were a few. And I would imagine where they all were sleeping. On the floor, at my feet, or by my side.
And they'd keep watch over me.
I've never had a dog before, but I've almost had twelve.
So I wonder if wearing socks is a little subconscious remedy to my nocturnal fears. OR my feet are just cold.
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