Stephen Foster penned a song in the mid 19th Century:
When I sleep I often dream. Sometimes it is some mash of the challenges at work, and sometimes I recall in the morning that I was reliving some event deep in memory. And yesterday, one melody I first learned in the 1960s popped into my head when I was considering this blog post. While children today probably have never heard of some of the musicians or songwriters who are to “American” music what Mark Twain remains to American Literature, Stephen Foster penned a song in the mid 19th Century that a century after his death, my grade-school piano teacher taught me to play “Beautiful Dreamer”. A beautiful dreamer, however, was not what I encountered late Wednesday evening.
Like some Gaelic spirit or banshee, I was dimly aware of something “wailing”. I vaguely recall stepping over sleeping dogs on the bedroom floor to get to the bathroom. Tossing and turning. I should not drink water before bedtime.
A throaty “Aaaghrooof ” shot me up from the bed pillows.
He has made noises in the middle of the night twice before. The first time, my wife and I turned the lights on and tried to rouse him. I thought then it was a ‘death rattle’. He was in deep sleep, but woke and wondered what all the concern was about. It was the sort of deep sleep neither my dearest love nor I get much of these days. My wife normally flutters about at night, up and down, and so forth, which is a major reason we buy a lot of sleep aid Zzquil. I was sleeping alone because Grandma was out of town.
Wednesday she flew out to see the new grandchild, the first baby of our eldest son and daughter-in-law. Sheri needed to be at the boarding gate reasonably early for an 8 AM flight. Which allowed me to calculate the best time to get up.
Three AM. Well, to be fair, it was actually closer to 3:45 AM. We left the house at 5:15 to making it to the airport before 6 AM. A long work day afterward and a Bible study that evening were “perks” – later having the bed to myself.
Back to Comet.
Whatever people say about dogs and mental ability notwithstanding, my dog has vivid dreams. From the murmuring sounds that may suddenly be a yip which startles us in the middle of the night, it takes a little effort to rouse that beast. I didn’t get out of bed last night. It was pitch-dark in the room. I was intent on falling back to sleep if at all possible without learning what the actual hour was. The house is mine for the next several days. I can always catch up on sleep.
With a night-time sleep aid. And earplugs.