And that's why I did labels

Sounds like the opening line of a short story competition, doesn't it? If you want, you can leave me a comment telling me what your short story would be, if it began with that line. It was, in fact, what I said to husband in my sleep last night. "And that's why I did labels."

Wouldn't it be interesting to know more about sleep and dreams? It's such an undiscovered world still. I mean, why do we all conk out for several hours a day? Why do we sometimes dream and sometimes not? Why do some dreams seem to make sense, and some are entirely random? Why do we sometimes speak out loud? I suppose it's the brain, left undisturbed, getting on with its work of processing experiences, cogitating on them, filing them away, bringing up old memories, working out how they tie in, imagining new possibilities. All very clever.

What a preoccupation sleep is for new parents. I can remember periods when I'd have given anything at all for a week of undisturbed nights. What am I saying? I'd have given anything for one undisturbed night. Impossible to believe that it will ever pass, but if you're in that phase of life, take heart. It does. I'm hardly ever disturbed at night by the children these days. If I am, I've lost the art of dealing with it. I'm all groggy, hardly functional. "House on fire? Are you sure? It's probably ok. Go back to bed and I'll deal with it in the morning." Then I can't get back to sleep again. Not like the old days when my on/off switch was brilliantly effective.

Sleep is a mercy, isn't it? Whatever the true extent of all of its mysterious unknown functions, it is one of life's blessings. The chance to lay aside worries and burdens for a few hours, the chance to recharge physical batteries. I've always been a good sleeper. I can't imagine how horrible long-term insomnia must be.

Let's go back to where we started. "And that's why I did labels" came, of course, from a dream about the toy shop. Price labels are my nemesis. You'd think it was simple, in the grand scale of things, to stick the right price label on the right object. I guess my education didn't prepare me properly for such tasks. I know I always used to write on job applications "attention to detail" as one of my impressive skills, but my experience with labels in the toy shop have led me to see that as something of a fib (though what else is a cv but a list of fibs?) Too many toys are similar, but not quite the same. That is the essence of the problem. And the importance of accurate stock control. Bleugh. Whatever.

So in my dream, having been given complicated instructions about which set of labels went on which boxload of items, I found I was four labels short. So I was trying to print out the extra four labels on the computer, and making a bit of a hash of it, and then my boss came over and asked me what I was doing, and I went into a lengthy explanation of the whole issue, most of which was to do with the personalities of the other people working in the shop, and ending with "and that's why I did labels".

Then I was in a cake shop, ordering a birthday cake (Husband's 50th birthday this week?) and wondering how on earth I was going to carry it home on a London bus and the tube in the rush hour (memories of Sarah Brown's story at CyberMummy? and my own journey to CyberMummy on buses, as the tube line was closed? - perhaps, in my dreams, I AM Sarah Brown?). Then the cake shop lady started insisting that I buy some new clothes as well (sartorial insecurities?), and I noticed that it was a shop selling cakes and clothes (odd... or perhaps a brilliant idea for a new small business venture?). But then as I ran for the bus, my top kept falling down, and it turned out to be a dream about mastectomy scars. Ha! You didn't see that one coming did you? Nor did I, at the time.

I rest my case. Sleep. Dreams. Fascinating stuff.