As a firm believer that there is no afterlife, I sort of resent sleeping as stealing valuable hours of consciousness. Its salvation, in my mind, is (besides how insanely comfy beds can be) the presence of dreams. I find them, sometimes, far more entertaining and hilarious than reality itself. The only afterlife I'd want is that which H.H. Price discusses. He proposes that a life after death could be like an everlasting dream. Unfortunately, if you believe, as I do, that you need a working brain for any level of conciousness, you'll agree that this is implausible, despite it's tempting ideals.
During our waking hours, as students especially will know, beds are a great place to spend time anyway. My house mate in particular is a great fan of her bed, which I replicated here in a sponge for her 21st, with digestive biscuits in butter-cream for pillows, and a tad too much blue icing. Luckily for me, pictures can't yet convey flavouring.
