s, walking around with delusions of grandeur. Every night, as I climb aboard my raised dormancy platform, I sigh with resignation, feeling like a monkey in pants.

And have you ever seen a person sleeping? They look like idiots. I have no doubt that Albert Einstein himself resembled Gomer Pyle in a gas leak, while drifti

I recently read an article about a British study that purported to reveal a link between the position a person adopts while sleeping, and their personality. The piece was accompanied by drawings of sleeping men and women in cartoon pajamas. They were curled up in little balls, stretched out like a hippie jumping off a cliff in a Mountain Dew commercial -- and everything in between.

The whole thing triggered a full-body shiver.

There's no way to get around it: sleep is creepy. It's not something I talk about in mixed company, because I'm seemingly alone in these beliefs, but I've always felt this way. I remember being a kid and becoming slightly uncomfortable whenever they showed people in bed on Little House on the Prairie, preparing to turn themselves over to an eight-hour mini­coma (on the prairie). I'm sorry, but the widely accepted nightly ritual of climbing atop an elevated platform and assuming a state of insect-like dormancy is disturbing to me.

The fact that otherwise bright and energetic people willingly allow themselves to become drooling vegetables at the end of each day, feels like a failure. We, as superior animals, should be above such base requirements by now. It's clear that we aren't yet fully evolved, and are nothing more than glorified praying mantises, walking around with delusions of grandeur. Every night, as I climb aboard my raised dormancy platform, I sigh with resignation, feeling like a monkey in pants.

And have you ever seen a person sleeping? They look like idiots. I have no doubt that Albert Einstein himself resembled Gomer Pyle in a gas leak, while drifti

n a Mountain Dew commercial -- and everything in between.

The whole thing triggered a full-body shiver.

There's no way to get around it: sleep is creepy. It's not something I talk about in mixed company, because I'm seemingly alone in these beliefs, but I've always felt this way. I remember being a kid and becoming slightly uncomfortable whenever they showed people in bed on Little House on the Prairie, preparing to turn themselves over to an eight-hour mini­coma (on the prairie). I'm sorry, but the widely accepted nightly ritual of climbing atop an elevated platform and assuming a state of insect-like dormancy is disturbing to me.

The fact that otherwise bright and energetic people willingly allow themselves to become drooling vegetables at the end of each day, feels like a failure. We, as superior animals, should be above such base requirements by now. It's clear that we aren't yet fully evolved, and are nothing more than glorified praying mantises, walking around with delusions of grandeur. Every night, as I climb aboard my raised dormancy platform, I sigh with resignation, feeling like a monkey in pants.

And have you ever seen a person sleeping? They look like idiots. I have no doubt that Albert Einstein himself resembled Gomer Pyle in a gas leak, while drifti

g slightly uncomfortable whenever they showed people in bed on Little House on the Prairie, preparing to turn themselves over to an eight-hour mini­coma (on the prairie). I'm sorry, but the widely accepted nightly ritual of climbing atop an elevated platform and assuming a state of insect-like dormancy is disturbing to me.

The fact that otherwise bright and energetic people willingly allow themselves to become drooling vegetables at the end of each day, feels like a failure. We, as superior animals, should be above such base requirements by now. It's clear that we aren't yet fully evolved, and are nothing more than glorified praying mantises, walking around with delusions of grandeur. Every night, as I climb aboard my raised dormancy platform, I sigh with resignation, feeling like a monkey in pants.

And have you ever seen a person sleeping? They look like idiots. I have no doubt that Albert Einstein himself resembled Gomer Pyle in a gas leak, while drifti

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The fact that otherwise bright and energetic people willingly allow themselves to become drooling vegetables at the end of each day, feels like a failure. We, as superior animals, should be above such base requirements by now. It's clear that we aren't yet fully evolved, and are nothing more than glorified praying mantises, walking around with delusions of grandeur. Every night, as I climb aboard my raised dormancy platform, I sigh with resignation, feeling like a monkey in pants.

And have you ever seen a person sleeping? They look like idiots. I have no doubt that Albert Einstein himself resembled Gomer Pyle in a gas leak, while drifti

s, walking around with delusions of grandeur. Every night, as I climb aboard my raised dormancy platform, I sigh with resignation, feeling like a monkey in pants.

And have you ever seen a person sleeping? They look like idiots. I have no doubt that Albert Einstein himself resembled Gomer Pyle in a gas leak, while drifting off to sleep. As I put a fresh pillow case on my pillow every six months or so, I see the stains there, created by excess saliva that rolled out of my mouth during my nightly transformation into a lobotomized fool, and I feel shame.

This is no way to live, people.

In addition to all the time wasted to voluntary loss of consciousness, I worry that one of these days I'll go in too deep, and won't be able to pull out on the other side. Sleep is Death Lite, and playing chicken with the grim reaper is, I think, ill-advised. Yet we do it every day. So far I've won every contest, but the odds keep getting longer and longer. It's Russian roulette beneath a fluffy comforter.

Most of us seem to be cocky about it, absolutely sure we'll wake up in the morning, but I know better. Tonight could very well be the night that I'm drawn to the light. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take...

And the fact that sleep is not only accepted by society, but also celebrated, concerns me. We should be working at correcting this abnormality. Instead, we continue building homes equipped with special rooms (chambers) in which to assume our freakish science-fiction state of suspended animation, complete with fancy hand-carved hibernation stands.

"How big's your