Marriage is easy.  It’s the wedding that’s difficult.  Granted, getting to the point where both parties agree that they will be better for being together for the rest of their lives, until Death do they part, in sickness as in health, and for poorer as also for richer, might actually take some doing.  But once, for the practical-minded, having considered the many solemn aspects of the proposed merger and the considerable responsibilities of the day to day operations and having signed the contract, at least metaphorically, there is the small matter or big matter, depending on how it is decided, of the ritual, the ceremony, the celebration.

   What is appropriate?  What is affordable?  What is bearable?  These are all important questions.  A big hall or a small intimate gathering?  At the church or in the judge’s chambers?  Pastoral, religious, ecumenical, high society, formal, informal?  Crown of flowers or discreet veil?  White satin or faded denim?  Sleek black limousine or a red Chevy with cans trailing and ‘Just Married’ in the back window?

   And that’s just the basics.  What about the invitations?  And, more importantly, who to invite?

   Just family alone gets you up to about 30 people.  Then close friends - those of the two of you - that’s at least 125.  And those are just the guys in town.  Out-of-towners and friends from childhood add another 50.  What about those it’s politically expedient to invite?  Another 20.  And how about the woman who has cut your hair for the last 7 years?  She’s a friend, isn’t she?  And those who are acquaintances, yet more than that.  Now we’re at about 275.

   Okay.  The invitations have gone out.  The RSVPs are pouring in at an alarming rate.  Now there’s food and music.  Paper plates or good china?  Pachelbel’s canon or Marvin Gaye?  It’s tough.

   There’s always the intriguing possibility of a theme wedding.  Always the urge to do something different.  Something beyond the traditional.  Something that pushes the wedding envelope.  Something more than ‘Do you take this white bridal gown?’ or ‘Do you take this boring black tuxedo?’  The gathered family and friends have seen this all before and may have actually participated in leading roles.  Sure, it’s full of nostalgia and sentiment for them, but why not give them something to really remember?  Be bold.  Break the mold.  Step out.  Why not have a theme wedding?

   I can see it now… The front of the church or the hall or out in the middle of the field… it’s decorated, no, designed to resemble the bridge of the Starship Enterprise.  The captain is in his chair, lost in thought.  Mr. Spock is stage left, fiddling with some dials.  Uhuru sits concentrating, as important messages of congratulations pour in from around the galaxy.  Scotty is off in the background, biting his nails, and making sure that everything is together, despite the pressure of this momentous event.

   The theme music swells as the bride and groom, dressed in regulation, form-fitting and unexpectedly flattering Starfleet uniforms, approach the captain.

   Spock says, “Captain, I believe the young couple is ready.”

   “Thank you, Mr. Spock.”

   The captain rises and, despite his short stature, towers over the happy couple.  His eyes twinkle kindly, as he looks down at them and says, “By the power invested in me by the Federation and with the blessings of…”

   Scotty breaks in.  “Captain, I’m not sure I can hold it together much longer.”

   “Mr. Scott, you should have thought of that before.”

   He turns back to the couple and continues.

   “Do you, Ensign, take this quite beautiful, young…”  His voice begins to get dreamy.  “..fair, pure…”  He sighs.  “..delicious, warm…” The bride and groom look at each other and then nervously back as Kirk goes on. “..gorgeous, innocent…”  The crew members cast concerned glances across the cabin.  Mr. Spock raises an eyebrow.  “..most appealing, tender…”  Spock clears his throat and says, “Captain?

   It breaks the spell.  Kirk, hearing this,  suddenly realizes where he is and what he is supposed to be doing.  He wipes a drop of perspiration from his forehead and takes a second to compose his features. 

   Now, completely in command once again, he says, “Do you, Ensign, take this First Lieutenant to be your interstellar companion, to hold her within your orbit, and to be her universe for as long as you both shall live?”

   “Aye, aye, sir.”

   “And do you, Lieutenant, take this Ensign to be your partner in exploration, to make him a part of your solar system, in sickness…”

   Bones steps forward quickly and holds his monitor out towards the groom.  He inspects it and then nods.

   Kirk continues.  “..and in health, from the present coordinates unto infinity?”

   “Aye, aye, sir.”

   Kirk wipes a small tear from the corner of one eye.  “I now pronounce you Primary Unit #0-364-2416692.  Mr. Sulu, Warp 2.”

   The music swells once more and the ship disappears in a flash of light, leaving the couple in a warm embrace and the audience wild with applause.

        Sleeping is more than just closing your eyes and shutting off your equipment for eight hours. It is more than simply "hitting the hay", more than just a time of stillness, a collection of snores, a tossing and turning, more than just a resting of bones.

The Bed As Primary Object.

   Sure, you can sleep anywhere, but given a choice it is hard to refuse a bed.  Beds take many forms, from simple cots to exotic shapes to classification along the lines of royalty.  In this day and age, King and Queen-size are quite common.

   As adaptable animals we get used to what we have.  If by chance or circumstance we have an opportunity to sleep King-sized when we are used to something less sumptuous, we will find returning to our humble mat or discarded double to be an experience of loss and regret.  We will toss and turn seeking that remembered elegance.  It's never quite the same.

   Once I had what was billed as The Astronaut Bed, because the springs used in the bed were the same as those used to support our astronauts in space.  At first, I lay down and experienced weightlessness.  But as the months went on, gravity played an increasingly larger part and I began to pity our poor astronauts tossing and turning in space, operating heavy machinery after a night of little rest and haggard dreams.

   Each night I slipped a little deeper into the abyss.  I would wake in the morning and find myself clinging to the side of the bed to avert that danger. My arms were sore, my body tense.  There was no right side to that bed.  Especially after it got run over by the dump truck.

   This is what happened.  I was making one of my many moves and the bed was riding upright in the back of the pickup.  Crossing the Gray's Bay bridge from where, in the summer, daredevils would jump to the icy waters below, my mattress had a similar urge.  Big lunk that it was, it never made it off the bridge; and as I was being followed by a large dump truck, it was flattened like some inarticulate road kill.  I pulled off to the side of the road, shifted into reverse, and retrieved it.  It looked quite good, considering.  Only those double tire tracks running it's length.

   The next time I slept on it I discovered that it had suffered extensive internal damage.  My astronaut springs had sprung and the abyss had deepened and darkened.  I slept on this bed, as long as I could, but soon my dreams included waterfalls, intense vertigo, and impending plummet.  I had to get a new one. I ordered a King.  A wide plane for dreams.  A large expanse for slumber.  If there had been an Emperor bed, I would have ordered it.  From then on, each night as I crawled between the covers, I felt a rush of anticipation and when my head met the pillow, I was out like a light.

Proper Sleep Apparel.

   Of course, fashion is dictated by occasion and so one must be ready for any and all events.  For formal slumber, when one is visiting beds of state, a set of crisply ironed pajamas is de rigueur.  This should be accompanied by a robe of some distinction, preferably with an embroidered monogram.

   Most other occasions are less demanding and are up to the decision of each sleeper.  My advice is to wear whatever is most comfortable - nightgown, old pajamas, or, yes, totally nude.

   Once old enough, I did without the pajamas with cowboys and Indians on them and, since then, my dreams have taken on a different tone.  Like the Emperor, once nude, I have many options open to me.  I am not bound by my actual outfit.  I can create whatever is needed.  It astounds me that there is an entire industry devoted to sleepwear.  I can see it now. Sophisticated flannels with piping. I'm tossing and turning during sleep, I become entangled in bed clothes and lose circulation.  This is not a good situation because I am already asleep and my lack of circulation goes unnoticed until it's too late.  Just think of the headlines - "Young Man Strangled by Bedclothes."  That's not for me. I'll take my chances alone, naked, against the night.

The Importance of Pillows.

   I always have worried about pillows.  I wonder, what is really in them?  Duck feathers?  Foam?  What's that?  And who knows what else?  I have never had the courage to look; afraid I'd have bad dreams.  As I learn more about the insidious ways of toxic substances, I try to stifle my questions concerning the foam pillow I have slept with for the last twenty years.  After all, it was made during a time of innocence.  Ozzie and Harriet each had several.  Ward, June, and the boys had them, although they didn't talk about them much.

   There have been times when I used my shoes, wrapped in a sweater, as a temporary measure and have found that it is not a bad substitution, although my mate has reservations about it's regular use.  The wonderful thing is that no matter what your pillow is like, sleep will always win out.  It's just that way.  You might be up for a night or two of worry or discomfort, but eventually you will find yourself asleep.

   There's a lot of talk these days about finding yourself.  I wonder what would really happen if I found myself asleep?  I'm sure I wouldn't want to interrupt myself. I might be having the dream of a lifetime.  Most likely I would tiptoe close, lie down, and with a yawn, join in.

The Right Side of the Bed.

   There is much speculation on which side is the right side of the bed.  Some think it is self-evident, while others feel it is a matter of perspective.  In theater, the directions are quite clear - stage left, stage right.  But all the playwrights came to an agreement about that a long time ago.  For sleep, there are still many questions unresolved.

   If you get up and walk directly into the wall, that's one thing.  If you spring out of bed with a song like, "Stairway to Heaven", in your head, that's another.  Usually, at that early hour, there are no impartial judges.  They each have their own beds to make and to lie in.

   In the morning, I prepare myself before I get up.  I ask myself, "What exciting thing is going to happen today?"  If I make it down the stairs without falling, it is a day greeted gratefully.

   If all else fails and I find that I have in fact gotten up from the wrong side, the solution is plain.  Return to bed and try again.

Fresh Air -  A Good Thing?

   It's an ongoing debate.  Windows open or windows closed?  I say it all depends on the weather and the proximity of the bed to the windows.  If, for example, it is snowing outside and the window is just to the right of your head, I would say no.  Not a good idea.  However, if your bed chamber is spacious and the distance between the windows and the bed provides for sufficient movement of the air and it is summer and you are sleeping downstairs anyway, why not?

   I suppose only children do things like this, but I once had a night of sleep which I will never forget.  I was young and living in Minnesota.  It was winter.  In fact, the forecast was for minus twenty degrees that night.  I was staying at a friend's house.  His parents were asleep.  I can't remember who's idea it was, but we decided that we would pile all available blankets and pillows in the middle of the floor and open every window in his room.  As the temperature dropped, we both imagined ourselves as intrepid explorers, as Eskimos, as igloos.  It was a test we passed successfully and our reward was sleep.

   In the morning, first, his mother and then, his mother, father, and sisters stood at the door and wondered who these children really belonged to.

When you grow up.  Sleeping Over - Do You Need An Invitation?

   Good manners require an invitation of some sort.  Details of the arrangements should not be left to the last minute.  It is best to clearly state them early to avoid confusion.  Written invitations are often unnecessary and, sometimes, "Hey, big boy," is all that is.

   Just remember the finer points of etiquette, especially, if this is your first time. 1. Don't hog the covers. 2. Wake up each hour for a breath mint. 3. Snoring is not permitted. 4. Be sure to use the proper form of address.  "Hi there" is fine, but "Hey, who are you?" is embarrassing to both parties.  As you part company, "Have a nice day." is always appropriate.

Sleeping and Mental Health.

   Without sleep, exhaustion sets in.  Muscles are fatigued, reflexes are slowed, and one's psychological state can be affected.

   The lack of adequate REM state sleep time has been shown to interfere with even the most basic of daily activities.  After a sleepless night even a simple question like, "What would you like for breakfast?" can be enough to set off a psychotic episode.

   This lack may also affect sexual performance.  I know a lot of guys will tell you that they can do it in their sleep.  That may be true, but without sleep, performance deteriorates rapidly.  Encouraging are the studies which have found that a quick nap is all that is needed to restore full potency.

   On the other hand, lack of sleep can be helpful if one desires to get in touch with other worlds.  This lack of sleep breaks down the barriers erected by years of monotonous schooling.  After just a few days of sleep deprivation, you may discover that the lamp in the living room is really a small moon orbiting Jupiter or that the people closest to you are really time travelers, in disguise, here to help you break an unending cycle of Karma.

   Yes, sleep is a subject of which we know quite a lot about, but, the more we learn, the more we realize how little we actually know.  This is a good thing.  It spurs curiosity and keep us humble. Sleep is a subject wide open for nightly exploration, but one which we should approach with caution.  I suggest you sleep on it.