I’m never more than five minutes away from being asleep.
I was tempted to add ‘these days’ – as if I was an old man instead of the thirty-three year old man I’m tempted to be.
I discovered the five minutes from anywhere thing when I was at work and had sore eyes from all that seeing. The next thing I knew I was in a sunny valley and there was a blue-tongue lizard but one of my brothers was Ivan Milat with a gun.
Please don’t analyse that dream. I don’t want to know.
It turns out I was asleep and having a workmare.
Then I woke up.
Another time in the backyard I could feel this terrible tightness in my chest after doing some yoga. I woke up to find our five kilo cat Eve asleep on my chest.
It turns out I was asleep and having an Evemare.
Like it says in my ABOUT bit, I think sleep is a portal to another world but living life five minutes from all this is starting to feel pretty edgy.
On the magnificent soundtrack to Pat Garrett and Billy The Kid Dylan sings of outlaws who ‘sleep with one eye open’ when they slumber. In meetings, I’ve perfected sleeping with two eyes open when I slumber. Sometimes I write crooked stuff down while I slumber, and say ‘agreed’ or ‘you’ve got to be kidding’. While I slumber.
It used to amaze me as a kid that Dad could sit down in an armchair and fall asleep just like that. In broad daylight, when he could be playing outside like Mum always told us to do. Incredible.
I understand him now. In fact I’m in awe. He had eight kids and worked nightshift in a bakery after his day job so he could clothe us. And get free bread. And possibly some quiet time. He did his best, although I often went to school wearing nothing but the torn and discarded underpants of my older brothers. And this prickly crown they all made for me.
These days (see, it slipped in after all) if I sit down after work to listen to the 6pm news and PM on ABC radio I generally wake up listening to Late Night Live with Phillip Adams.
This portal takes me wherever the programs traverse in between: war torn Europe, outback Australia, the tumours of the Health Report, the trials of the Law Report. I’m slapped awake by Wallington who tells me it’s time to go to bed.
‘What? Already? Aren’t we having dinner?’
You wouldn’t believe the dream I just had about Rolf Harris.