I don't know what's come over me. I never used to be one for an afternoon nap, but there has been a change. Oh, in the past decade or so I'd have a very short nap, and I really do mean short, perhaps once every month or two, but I hardly think that counts. Recently, however, I seem to be drawn to my easy chair almost every day.
When I look back, it seems that this pattern began almost exactly when I turned 65 last September. Perhaps it's a coincidence, or perhaps some sort of switch magically flips around this age.
We have an official rest time after lunch on the days when we have JJ. He is really very good about this. He plays happily and quietly on the guest bed during this quiet hour, usually with his Nintendo DS that used to be mine. It was passed onto him for Christmas the year before last, and he has made good use of it ever since. Except on very rare occasion, he doesn't sleep. But I often do.
I am more of a side sleeper than a back sleeper, but I try to stay on my back for the most part for this afternoon siesta because I don't want to sleep too long or deeply, for if I do sleep deeply, I sometimes find myself a little groggy for a few hours afterward.
I don't sleep heavily and sometimes not at all. Even I do nod off, I tend to jerk back to the surface. Depending on how tired I feel, this pattern can occur any number of times in one session. In addition, strange things occur during my noddings. I call them visions.
Sometimes, a parade of faces will flash before my eyes: one face after another. Stranger yet is the fact that they are faces of people I don't know. My brain, which cannot visualize or create much when awake, simply creates all of these unknown faces, frequently in rapid succession.
Sometimes, and this is occurring more frequently than the face parade lately, I simply see weird occurrences, such as a child flying by on a toy dragon: an all-time favourite vision. I recently saw my daughter-in-law being carried somewhat fireman-style into a lake. She wasn't being held very securely, which caused her head to dip in to the water. Then I both saw and heard Sue calling me so clearly that I woke up, looked to the door and answered. Except she wasn't there.
Of course, these are the highlights. The truth is that I don't remember the majority of my visions, but I am aware that I have had them in my noddings.
Sue also rests during this sacred hour in which we endeavour to reclaim our tenuous grips on sanity, but she does not experience visions. In fact, she thinks I am weird.
She's probably right.