I have always slept best in a tent high in the mountains when the temperature is below zero, there's beer and good whisky in my belly, a wool toque on my head and my dog twitching her ears as she snores lightly, ready to warn me of the spooks that travel in the Canadian night. Luckily, for sleeping dogs and inebriated campers, there are few spooks on the move where humans rarely visit.
As a boy I slept on the same mattress my family dragged with us from Alberta to British Columbia. It must have been a top quality mattress because I often slept until two in the afternoon on it in my teens. The only thing that ever woke me on that mattress was the sound of giant spooky wolf spiders walking slowly on the walls. Clack.....clack.....clack.....clack. When I turned on the light to eyeball the night walkers they would first stop, then go clack-clack-clacking away into one of their many bug carcass strewn spider holes.
After the old Alberta mattress came two waterbeds. Their warmth made for good winter sleeping. It is hard getting out of bed when you have a waterbed. Strangler and Ranger liked curling up on the waterbeds for a nap. And waterbeds are the best for a good fuck. I blame the Uptight Religious Right for the decline of the once mighty waterbed. When waterbed sales inevitably rise again I will know the Revolution is on once again and we are on our way to Freedom.
I have a fancy bed now. It is not too bouncy so it is good for sleeping. The Hammer likes to jump on it when I have been alarmed by my morning radio and have her big belly rubbed by Sonja. The two of them are some cute cuddled up together in the dark.
I dreamt last night I was getting a new tattoo. I was getting tattoo'd with a Hammer or two.