Last night, I slept like a corpse. Not as well as a corpse (in fact, I woke quite frequently), but in the position of a corpse–flat on my back with my arms crossed over my chest (more like a mummy, I suppose). This is mostly unusual for me, though not entirely unheard of, and got me to thinking about how I sleep. I generally need to feel some sort of weight upon me. Even in the summer, I like to have heavy blankets weighing me down. I often need to bury my head underneath pillows. I wonder if this reflects some sort of unfulfilled psychological need or some other sort of deficiency in my waking life?