Why on earth would anyone want to know what I do at bedtime? It's what we do though, isn't it? We compare ourselves to others to see if we're normal. I'm a writer and I see younger writers asking questions like this all the time. What time of the day do you write? How many words a day do you write? Do you have a special place in which you write? What inspires you? It smacks of insecurity and that's understandable. Writing is not plumbing.
There’s something intrinsically dichotomous about us humans. So often we talk about ourselves as if we were two separate and distinct individuals: I wonder what I was thinking. Why don't we know what we were thinking? Who was doing the goddamn thinking for us? Where were we?
I've read quite a bit about creativity trying to get my head around why I get good ideas at the most inopportune time, e.g. five minutes after I've got into bed. It is, apparently, not unusual. Virginia Woolf wrote in To the Lighthouse: "Certainly she was losing consciousness of the outer things. And as she lost consciousness of outer things … her mind kept throwing things up from its depths, scenes, and names, and sayings, and memories and ideas, like a fountain spurting..." It's all to do with boredom, something I've written about at length on my other blog in the article The tinnitus of existence. Boredom is one of those words we think we understand but it's not until we step back and examine boredom that we realise how beneficial and necessary it is. Before I go to sleep I allow myself to be bored and take it from there. Mostly I nod off, sometimes I get up and read and sometimes if I'm lucky I get a great idea that I have to get up to write it down.