The Forgotten Rhythm of Two Sleeps
Imagine waking in the middle of the night—not from a bad dream, not because of noise, and not due to restlessness—but simply because your body knew it was time. In the Middle Ages, this was not unusual. People regularly divided the night into two distinct sleeps, separated by an interval of wakefulness that lasted an hour or more.
Why did they do this? And what filled those quiet, candle-lit hours between slumbers? The answer reveals much about their work, beliefs, and daily rhythms.
In the pre-industrial world, sleeping straight through the night was rare. For centuries—from ancient civilizations to the late medieval period—people followed a pattern now known as first sleep and second sleep.
The first sleep began not long after sunset, especially during the long nights of winter, and lasted three to four hours. Then, without alarm clocks or urgency, people awoke naturally in the middle of the night. Far from strange, this cycle was so common that diaries, court documents, and medical texts mentioned it casually. Even a 16th-century French physician praised the wakeful gap as the best time for study and reflection. English literature, Roman writings, and monastic records all confirm this rhythm was widespread.
This was not a marginal habit—it was a way of life. Farmers in rural villages, merchants in busy towns, and monks in cloisters all shaped their nights around two sleeps. What modern people might call insomnia was, for them, a normal and valued part of existence. That hour of wakefulness became a breathing space in the stillness of night, a pause when life slowed to silence.
Before artificial lighting, nights belonged to the sun, moon, and flickering flames. Darkness was profound, and candles or fires were costly luxuries. This deep blackness triggered natural hormonal changes—melatonin surged earlier, pulling people into slumber soon after dusk. With winter nights stretching up to fourteen hours, dividing rest into two blocks was simply practical.
The rhythm of two sleeps gave the night its own structure. The first sleep was heavy and restorative, what modern science calls deep slow-wave sleep. People woke refreshed, not groggy, because waking was expected. Families stirred softly, fires were rekindled, and the mysterious interval between sleeps began.
This in-between time was unique: neither night nor morning, neither work nor rest. Some prayed, believing God’s ear was closest in the silence of midnight. Others tended to chores—stoking fires, feeding infants, checking livestock. Some reflected, planned, or even visited neighbors guided by the glow of a distant candle. For couples, it offered intimacy and privacy from the day’s demands. What might seem wasted hours to us were, to them, precious and purposeful moments.
Afterward, people returned to their beds for the second sleep, a lighter slumber that carried them toward dawn. In winter, it stretched late into the morning; in summer, it ended early with the crow of the rooster. Bakers, brewers, and watchmen often used this wakeful time for work, showing how deeply the pattern was woven into society.
Medical and spiritual ideas reinforced the practice. Physicians believed digestion and health benefited from sleeping in two stages, while religious leaders encouraged midnight prayer as especially powerful. Even dreams were divided—those before first waking were thought symbolic, while those before morning were seen as closer to reality. The night, then, was not just rest—it was a cycle of body, mind, and soul.
But by the 18th and 19th centuries, this rhythm began to fade. Artificial light, urban living, and factory schedules compressed nights into a single block of rest. Evening hours filled with theaters, cafés, and late-night work, while early factory whistles demanded uninterrupted sleep. Bed-sharing declined, community ties loosened, and the social and spiritual value of the midnight wakefulness was lost. By the 20th century, first and second sleep had slipped from memory.
Yet modern research suggests our ancestors may have been closer to our natural biology. Studies show that when people live without artificial light, they often fall back into segmented sleep—dozing early, waking in the night, then drifting back again. What we sometimes label as insomnia may simply be our body’s old rhythm resurfacing.
The story of two sleeps is more than a forgotten medieval custom. It’s a reminder of how people once lived in step with the natural world, embracing night not as a block of unconsciousness, but as a layered experience filled with prayer, work, reflection, and intimacy.
In that quiet space between sleeps, medieval people found something we’ve nearly erased—a pause outside of time, where life moved at the pace of firelight and the turning of the stars.
The past is full of forgotten rhythms and untold wonders. If stories like these spark your curiosity, step into the world of Storyantra—where history, culture, and imagination find a voice.