My dog dreams. I watch him, micro spasms of muscle power him through heroic dog epics of the ectoplasm of consciousness, barking at dream squirrels in dream trees. I also dream, but these bubbles of subliminal thought vanish at the first auditory intrusion of the conscious world; the alarm clock. Oh, how I abhor thee. The siren sends my dreams scuttling back into the darkness, their wisdom between their legs. I cannot remember my dream squirrels. The ones that do leave flashes are those which repeat themselves, like flashcards.
I dream of running, of standing on top of the highest tower built before the industrial revolution. It is swaying to and forth, I know that I will fall. I try to scream, but no sound comes from my lungs, my vocal cords deadened by fear. Always, as I hurtle towards earth, I discover that I can fly, but not like superman- one arm out ahead, guiding him. I dervish and whirl, the wind tossing me from one up current to the next. My path is unclear, but I am moving. I am safe. I am not falling.
Sleep is the pitstop between daytime wakefulness and a medical coma. Although reactions to stimuli are reduced, most importantly that of vision, one of our predominant senses, the body is still alert and can respond to loud noises or other shocks to the system. Hopefully, though, a well-orchestrated night’s sleep will lead the sleeper through stages 1, 2, and 3 of the sleep cycle, before hitting the Mecca of slumber; REM sleep, the stage of Rapid Eye Movement.
Known as paradoxical sleep, brainwaves and eye-movement get frisky, and the body’s autopilot systems fluctuate. Those dreams of teeth, and your Grade 2 teacher’s head on the body of a kitten that can fly; those are from REM sleep. Researchers estimate that in one night, we dream for up to 2 hours. Optimal sleep augments brain activity, promotes learning and creates dreams.
Like Alice, surrendering to the comfort of sleep at the end of a period of wakefulness, the human body succumbs to a period of reversible, inert inactivity, as compared with wakefulness. Curiously, though now we associate this with one sleep period withing a 24-hour day, this has not always been the case. Monophasic sleep patterns are now considered “the norm”, with a 6-to-8-hour segment of rest punctuating the end of one day and the beginning of the next.
In a “normal” sleep cycle, then, the sleeper experiences four distinctive sleep stages. In Stage One, the sleeper settles into a cosy stupor, breathing slows and alpha waves transition to NREM 1. In this stage, the body may jolt rapidly, or you may experience the “GAH I’m FAAALLING” sensation that we all know and love. These starts and twitches are known as hypnagogic sensations, and disappear as the body sinks into Stage Two, when the brain activity slows, temperature drops and breathing slows. Though the grey matter still experiences bursts of brain wave activity known as sleep spindles, there is no eye movement at this stage; the Dream Weaver is busy at the spinning wheel. Stage Three, also known as Slow Wave Sleep, or Delta Sleep (not to be confused with the COVID variant) is the deep sleep phase, associated with restorative sleep, growth, immune system reinforcement, creativity, insightful thinking and improved memory.
All good things, no doubt, but the best is yet to come. REM sleep is the fourth stage, when paradoxically, breathing, temperature and heart rate increase. The entire body, except for the respiratory system and the eyes are rendered immobile. This sleep stage is rife with vivid dreams and is said to reenergise the mind.
So that’s it, the sleep cycle. Rinse and repeat for a good night’s sleep.
However, this monophasic trend has only been in vogue since the Industrial Revolution, with Biphasic (two sleep segments within a 24-hour period) and polyphasic (more than two, the-sky’s-the-limit sleep segments) being far more common before the dawn of the rat-race as we know it. Indeed, in the south of Europe and in many South American countries, to name but a few, biphasic sleep patterns still predominate, with the nap, or “la siesta” enshrined as a cultural phenomenon. For an example of polyphasic sleep patterns, I think of my dear city-mates working in restaurants and cafes of Nanjing, and their affinity for napping at any time, in any place. Slumped over tables, stretched along booths; one time, I saw an intrepid snoozer balanced along a length of chain between two bollards. It is impressive; no word of a lie.
So, as with so much in life, the “norm” can be destabilised by recontextualising it; reframing it so that we may reconceptualise the limited definition of “normal” that still plagues humanity, in our dreams and in our waking daymares. Specifically, this month of March celebrates Women’s History Month, with 8 March being International Women’s Day. The day and the month reclaim voice, authority and autonomy for women and girls worldwide, against whom the catalogue of crimes against humanity is too turgid and depressing to detail here. The UN prefaces its introduction to Sustainable Development Goal 5- Gender Equality with:
“More girls are going to school, fewer girls are forced into early marriage, more women are serving in parliament and positions of leadership, and laws are being reformed to advance gender equality. Despite these gains, many challenges remain: discriminatory laws and social norms remain pervasive, women continue to be underrepresented at all levels of political leadership, and 1 in 5 women and girls between the ages of 15 and 49 report experiencing physical or sexual violence by an intimate partner within a 12-month period.”
I think about my dreams of running, breathless, empty, powered by pure, cold fear. I think about my dreams of screaming, a silent, impotent scream. I think; yes, these are dreams. The nightmares are too scary to share.
As human beings, and perhaps as earthlings, we all have dreams. Martin Luther King had one. Malala Yousafzai has one.
You have one. I have one.
The neural impulses behind the dreams that leave a trace in the waking world do so because of repetition, because of the epiphanous quality of the revelations therein, or the persistent need for the subconscious to be heard above the din of daily norms and customs.
This Women’s History Month of 2022, perhaps like G.B. Shaw, we can close the month by thinking, “You see things, and you say, ‘Why?’ But I dream things and say ‘Why not?’”
Why not?
