My colleague the Tortoise Cat is comfortable catnap-dreaming through these shorter, darkening days. Maybe she dreams of soaring with crows or barren branch climbing or adventuring giant holes.
But I leaned long ago that arising before dawn invigorates.
Most mornings I leave her snoozing on her bed. It is her bed indeed, because lately I've been deep-sleeping and deeper-dreaming in a reclining "zero-gravity" lawn chair a foot away.
The bed was here already and the Tortoise Cat claimed it after I dumped my bag of cushions and blankets upon it back on moving day. I have long considered beds to be space-wasters, however, preferring floor space padded with comforters -- or the aforementioned chair I bought a few years ago for meditation or hypnosis sessions, back when that sort of work was part of my business plan.
Late last year (around this season) I took to sleeping in that chair (and got hooked) when hoards of centipedes suddenly abandoned the basement under my east side Milwaukee apartment and temporarily invaded my rooms during a stretch of weird, wild extra-harsh weather.
The cat was amazed -- and thrilled to chase our speedy, bitty guests all around.. A cat's version of a protein-rich happy-meal many became, I afraid. After the centipede population diminished, I kept sleeping in the chair.
Anyway, folks who sleep past noon miss the dawn-boost and almost all the lights of day. So then how can dusk's uncanny glow mellow and cheer their systems or stir deep transforming dreams?
WOW. Autumn's allotted gigabytes of bandwidth must be almost used up by now!