Jay Lake: Writer

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[personal] To sleep, perchance to dream; aye, there’s the rub

Most of my life I have been a champion sleeper. Even these days, given the various medications and the healing efforts of my body in decay, I most nights sleep well and deeply.

In my time, I have slept in bathtubs. I have slept on the bare metal of a pick-up bed. I have slept on dirt. I have slept in cars, buses, trains, boats, ships and airplanes. I have slept through parties and all manner of racket. I have slept through earthquakes. I have slept through a Category 3 hurricane on the Texas Gulf Coast and I don’t know how many Pacific typhoons. I have slept through a four-alarm fire in my own college dorm building.

Last night, I could not sleep through Lisa Costello‘s snoring. It was the loudest sound I have ever heard a sleeping human being make. And I am a man who raised a super-powered toddler. I could not even by dint of noble effort imitate or reproduce this sound. If normal snoring can be likened to sawing wood, this was Godzilla tearing apart the lumberyard and being pissed about the splinters.

The thunderous racket entered my dreams twice before fully waking me, at which point I lay in the dark, amazed. All it took to calm the Stentorian flood of sound was a gentle poke. She shifted, snuffled once or twice, and continued to sleep.

I only wish I’d though to fire up the decibel meter on my iPhone.


P.S. – Yes, I have Lisa’s permission to make this post and publicly discuss her sonic shame.

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