Sleep is supposed to be restful and reposing, is it not? You're supposed to wake up refreshed and eager to crank up the engine that will take you through the day.
There and again, sleep can be fraught; full of anxiety and weird dreams that leave you tense rather than reposed, exhausted rather than rested. I had one such night last night.
It hadn't started well, with me finding that the cat (Ulysse) had totally disgraced himself on the duvet. Whether he was ill or not I don't give a toss; he didn't have to do it on the bed. There was plenty of floor - tiled - on which to be ill and which would have been a lot easier to clean up. As a result I'm going to have to throw away the duvet because the feathers will be forever more harbouring god knows what foulness within their tiny fronds.
Having showered to rid myself of all trace of filth I made my thankful way to bed (borrowing my eldest's duvet).
Later, I looked at the clock and to my horror saw it was only 5.30am. How much longer was this wretched night going to last? I had been having one of those anxiety-ridden dreams, not a nightmare exactly, but one where you long for the day so as to be sure not to fall back into its clutches as soon as you go back asleep.
Ridiculously, mine involved making sandwiches, seeing family running down a hill and my dotty father. You wouldn't think there was sufficient content there for so much stress, but it wasn't the content so much as the levels of tension generated. At one point, I was making the sandwiches with my ex and his very presence was enough to send my blood pressure rocketing.
Actually it reminded me of something in the book I'm reading at the moment - This thing of darkness. One of the natives, York Minister, is able to produce in someone he considers a potential threat, immense fear. To the point that the hair on the back of their neck stands on end and they break out in a sweat.
My dream was all self-induced, I know, but that didn't stop me feeling exhausted this morning as a result of having slept so anxiously.
This evening, my TWDB and I are going to Ikea to buy, amongst other things, a new duvet.
Ulysse is in deep disgrace. Does he care? Not a jot!