“Hello from the intermission,” my friend Ali texted me at 6:37 the other morning. Ali is sleeping in shifts, first midnight until 4:30 or 5 a.m., when she rises for an hour or two of Wordle and TV, then back to bed for a second installment, which concludes sometime around 9. The only problem with this arrangement, as she sees it, is that sleeping takes longer than it would if she knocked out her hours consecutively.
Before the Industrial Revolution, before artificial light and the routinization of “rise and grind,” segmented sleep of this sort was common, as I learned from this Times story by Danielle Braff. The pandemic, she writes, has permitted those who are working from home and thus have more control over their schedules, like Ali, to embrace two-part sleeping. One person Danielle spoke with sleeps from 7 p.m. to 11 p.m., then from 3 a.m. to 7 a.m. Another does 2 a.m. to 6 a.m. and 2 p.m. to 6 p.m.
At first, this sounded to me as if insomnia hired a new PR agency. Isn’t waking up in the middle of the night and watching back-to-back episodes of “The Golden Girls” until you’re drowsy again unhealthy? Shouldn’t we strive for eight uninterrupted hours of blissful slumber? Surely waking up in the middle of the night should be worried over as a problem, not scheduled like a lunch date.
Experts and former insomnia sufferers beg to differ. In The Times Magazine in 2016, Jesse Barron wrote a letter of recommendation for segmented sleep. He learned to love the hours between snooze segments that the French called dorveille, or wakesleep. “Waking into them is different, childlike,” he wrote. “The time feels freer. The urge to be busy abates.”