Vesna McMaster - Dolphin

Dolphins, we are told, only let one side of their brain sleep at a time – what with the whole mammals drowning thing. This presents an ideal metaphor for poor-quality sleep which leaves you feeling as if you never slept. To sleep thus is ‘dolphining’. (That’s what I claim, anyway). It’s a depressingly useful word. I’m in no danger of drowning in my bed, yet I dolphin constantly.

I have questions.

1) How does one determine that a sleeping dolphin is partitioning its brain? We can’t even understand what they’re saying, how did we supposedly work this out? (I could look this up, but I refuse. I prefer to keep my scepticism over the research.)

2) Why are dolphins always so fucking cheerful, in that case? Ah, but this is only our projection. They look all smiley and freshly-lubed up, but they’re often absolutely vile to each other (I won’t go into details).

Now, I porpoise a correlation. No wonder they’re sociopaths. Who wouldn’t be, on perpetual half-sleep?

Solution: Sleep aids for dolphins. If they want to be harmonious, Zen cetaceans, they should seek out shallow berths where they can anchor themselves and have a proper snooze. Like the sea otters and kelp. Securely moored, properly out of it, ever known to commit delphine atrocities.

Why the interest in the sleep patterns and repercussions of marine mammals, I hear you ask? Let’s just say, no-one appreciates a poor night’s sleep.