Where Fatigue Might Lead.

There’s something quite compelling about curling into a ball on an armchair by the fire while the sullen wind moans restlessly in the chimney, laying your head on a large cushion, and anticipating a little sleep. In my case, sleep didn’t quite come. Instead, my mind remained just on the edge of consciousness, but I experienced a succession of short, vivid dreams. No doubt someone can explain that in terms of brain rhythms. Please feel free to enlighten me.

When I came back to full waking state, I was pleased that the experience of a few weeks ago wasn’t repeated. I was feeling over-tired that night, so I lay on the sofa in front of the fire and fell properly asleep. The back of the sofa faces the bottom of my staircase, and when I woke up I was certain I could ‘feel’ somebody leaning over the sofa watching me. It was a little startling…

Was it the mad woman come down from the attic, I wonder; I dreamt about her frequently in early childhood. Maybe, but I hadn’t even bought my copy of Jane Eyre when that happened. And just who is the real mad woman in the attic anyway? Ah, if only I knew that, all might become clear.