This article first appeared in  vol. 8, nr. 4, June 1997.

Personally, I'm a sound sleeper. There are those who aren't any good at it at all. When I was still young, I studied the subject of sleeping for awhile. I used to be the youngest professor of somnistics around, and made a name for myself with my lectures and articles on such diverse topics as 'The effects of gravitation on the eyelid system' or 'Was Mr. Sandman a shepherd?'

My special talent for the horizontal quiescent state has often led to bizarre situations. The story goes that once I didn't answer the door when a friend of mine was calling, as the sound of the alarm was drowning out that of the doorbell. When he called again, an hour or so later, that situation hadn't changed one iota.

But with the climbing of the years my technique has suffered to some extent. Furthermore, I've done some calculations. Assume you live to be 75 years old. By then, you've pretty well slept for 25 years. Add to that the times one was blinking one's eyelids (2 years), the occasions when one held a balanced five-count (3 years), or when one was dummy (in my case, 5 years), then there's no longer any reason to pout when one can't fall asleep every once in awhile.

And what wonderful times we live in! In the past, one had to resort to counting sheep. Other livestock was okay too, but since pigs and cattle are collectively being destroyed on account of swine fever and BSE, one's quickly through counting. Nowadays, you simply go to your computer to play a game of bridge. There are always a hundred or so idiots on hand to entertain you.

Last Saturday was such an occasion. I woke up around one a.m. I'd had a dream about a bridge-playing seeing-eye dog. For the time being only the bidding - declarer play and defense was still to come. Inasmuch as a dog obviously can't operate a bidding box, he must indicate the desired bid by barking. That works as follows: the first series of barks shows the level, and the second series (initiated after a short, but discernible pause) the strain. Thus, 3 becomes: 'woof, woof, woof...woof, woof.' No serious problem, of course, and certainly nothing to lie awake over, but in my dream I encountered a bidding sequence involving fourteen relays, and culminating in 7NT, redoubled. I woke up with a shock, and couldn't fall asleep again because of the buzzing in my ears. Under my window, some dog opened 3 (pre-emptive).

So, I drag myself to the computer and connect:
monkeytale has logged in
How about that, the Vanderbilt final between Cayne and Schwartz live on OKBridge. I'm curious to see how that works, vugraph on Internet.
Joining Vanderbilt's table, please wait...
After a few seconds I join another 150 kibitzers at the table where Cayne-Burger are playing Boyd-Robinson. Prior to the start of the match, the vugraph commentator, Allison Kareno, explains the procedures. She adds much humor, and uses beautiful dignified language, devoid of typos. Jimmy Cayne, who has become wealthy on the stockmarket, is the client on his team. He's a good player, with a sound record of achievements, but not quite in the same league as his pro retinue. The match is running along uneventfully, until board 25 hits the screen.

N/EW	NORTH
	5 3
	K Q 7 6 3
	9 4
	K Q 10 7
WEST		EAST
J 8 7 2		Q 9 6 4
9 8 5 2		10 4
7		Q 8 3 2
J 8 3 2		9 5 4
	SOUTH
	A K 10
	A J
	A K J 10 6 5
	A 6

	NORTH
	5
	-
	-
	Q 10
WEST		EAST
J		Q 9
-		-
-		Q
J 8		-
	SOUTH
	K 10
	-
	J
	-

After this major drama on rama I leave the Vanderbilt, and start looking around for a few more sheep. I start a table, and before you can say Jack Robinson I have three visitors. Peculiar names they have, too: seeing-eye dog, kees, rotweil.
Hey monkeytail, wanna play? they bark at me. I haven't quite forgotten the dream I had earlier that night, and I don't trust these dogs one single bit.
no folks, too late 4 me, I say bluntly. I'm hitting my basket again.