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June 12 - June 12, 2019
Emerging from this research renaissance is an unequivocal message: sleep is the single most effective thing we can do to reset our brain and body health each day—Mother Nature’s best effort yet at contra-death.
Measurements taken during the day were ambiguous, with no clear signature of difference to be found. Only in the nighttime ocean of sleeping brainwaves did the recordings speak out a clear labeling of my patients’ saddening disease fate. The discovery proved that sleep could potentially be used as a new early diagnostic litmus test to understand which type of dementia an individual would develop.
It was in 1729 when French geophysicist Jean-Jacques d’Ortous de Mairan discovered the very first evidence that plants generate their own internal time.
De Mairan was intrigued by one plant in particular, called Mimosa pudica.
The experimental question facing Kleitman and Richardson was simple: When cut off from the daily cycle of light and dark, would their biological rhythms of sleep and wakefulness, together with body temperature, become
clock resetting is termed a zeitgeber, from the German “time giver” or “synchronizer.”
The twenty-four-hour biological clock sitting in the middle of your brain is called the suprachiasmatic (pronounced soo-pra-kai-as-MAT-ik) nucleus. As with much of anatomical language, the name, while far from easy to pronounce, is instructional: supra, meaning above, and chiasm, meaning
Melatonin has other names, too. These include “the hormone of darkness” and “the vampire hormone.” Not because it is sinister, but
Melatonin simply provides the official instruction to commence the event of sleep, but does not participate in the sleep race itself.
The second is sleep pressure. At this very moment, a chemical called adenosine is building up in your brain. It will continue to increase in concentration with every waking minute that elapses. The longer you are awake, the more adenosine will accumulate. Think
adenosine simultaneously turn down the “volume” of wake-promoting regions in the brain and turn up the dial on sleep-inducing regions.
The signals are blocked by a perceptual barricade set up in a structure called the thalamus (THAL-uh-muhs). A smooth, oval-shaped object just smaller than a lemon, the thalamus is the sensory gate of the brain.
During REM sleep, the memories were being replayed far more slowly: at just half or quarter the speed of that measured when the rats were awake and learning the maze.
(1) brainwave activity, (2) eye movement activity, and (3) muscle activity. Collectively, these signals are grouped together under the blanket term “polysomnography” (PSG), meaning a readout (graph) of sleep (somnus) that is made up of multiple signals (poly).
At that moment Kleitman and Aserinsky realized the profound discovery they had made: humans don’t just sleep, but cycle through
In the years since Ester’s slumber revelation, we have learned that the two stages of sleep—NREM and REM—play out in a recurring, push-pull battle for brain domination across the night. The cerebral war between the two is won and lost every ninety minutes,
As we will discover in chapter 6, a key function of deep NREM sleep, which predominates early in the night, is to do the work of weeding out and removing unnecessary neural connections. In contrast, the dreaming stage of REM sleep, which prevails later in the night, plays a role in strengthening those connections.
works both ways. If you wake up at eight a.m., but don’t go to bed until two a.m., then you lose a significant amount of deep NREM sleep.
Every time I watch this stunning act of neural synchrony occurring at night in my own research laboratory, I am humbled: sleep is truly an object of awe. Returning to the analogy of the microphone dangling above the football stadium, consider the game of sleep now in play. The crowd—those thousands of brain cells—has shifted from their individual chitter-chatter before the game (wakefulness) to a unified state (deep sleep). Their voices have joined in a lockstep, mantra-like chant—the chant of deep NREM sleep.
In this regard, you can think of each individual slow wave of NREM sleep as a courier, able to carry packets of information between different anatomical brain centers. One benefit of these traveling deep-sleep brainwaves is a file-transfer process. Each night, the long-range brainwaves of deep sleep will move memory packets (recent experiences) from a short-term storage site, which is fragile, to a more permanent, and thus safer, long-term storage location. We therefore consider waking brainwave activity as that principally concerned with the reception of the outside sensory world, while the
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When it comes to information processing, think of the wake state principally as reception (experiencing and constantly learning the world around you), NREM sleep as reflection (storing and strengthening those raw ingredients of new facts and skills), and REM sleep as integration (interconnecting these raw ingredients with each other, with all past experiences, and, in doing so, building an ever more accurate model of how the world works, including innovative insights and problem-solving abilities).
This feature, termed “atonia” (an absence of tone, referring here to the muscles), is instigated by a powerful disabling signal that is transmitted down the full length of your spinal cord from your brain stem. Once put in place, the postural body muscles, such as the biceps of your arms and the quadriceps of your legs, lose all tension and strength. No longer will they respond to commands from your brain. You have, in effect, become an embodied prisoner, incarcerated by REM sleep. Fortunately, after serving the detention sentence of the REM-sleep cycle, your body is freed from physical
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Take cetaceans, such as dolphins and whales, for example. Their sleep, of which there is only NREM, can be unihemispheric, meaning they will sleep with half a brain at a time! One half of the brain must always stay awake to maintain life-necessary movement in the aquatic environment. But the other half of the brain will, at times, fall into the most beautiful NREM sleep.
Individuals who are deliberately fasting will sleep less as the brain is tricked into thinking that food has suddenly become scarce.
The sleeping fetus is therefore unaware of its parents’ performative machinations. Any co-occurring arm flicks and leg bops that the mother feels from her baby are most likely to be the consequence of random bursts of brain activity that typify REM sleep.
This is no coincidence. REM sleep acts as an electrical fertilizer during this critical phase of early life. Dazzling bursts of electrical activity during REM sleep stimulate the lush growth of neural pathways all over the developing brain, and then furnish each with a healthy bouquet of connecting ends, or synaptic terminals.
But since this first round of brain wiring is purposefully overzealous, a second round of remodeling must take place.
The time of adding brain connections with the help of REM sleep is over. Instead, pruning of connections becomes the order of the day or, should I say, night. Enter the sculpting hand of deep NREM sleep.
Our analogy of the Internet service provider is a helpful one to return to.
In a remarkable series of experiments, the pioneering sleep researcher Irwin Feinberg discovered something fascinating about how this operation of downscaling takes place within the adolescent brain.
Though we continue to examine this question, the explanation I propose is a socio-evolutionary one.
First, the areas of the brain that suffer the most dramatic deterioration with aging are, unfortunately, the very same deep-sleep-generating regions—the
Recently, we identified one factor—a sticky, toxic protein that builds up in the brain called beta-amyloid that is a key cause of Alzheimer’s disease: a
called the hippocampus helps apprehend these passing experiences and binds their details together. A long, finger-shaped structure tucked deep on either side of your brain, the hippocampus offers a short-term reservoir, or temporary information store, for accumulating new memories. Unfortunately, the hippocampus has a limited storage capacity, almost like a camera roll or, to use a more modern-day analogy, a USB memory stick.
The difference between the two groups at six p.m. was not small: a 20 percent learning advantage for those who slept. Having observed that sleep restores the brain’s capacity for learning, making room for new memories, we went in search of exactly what it was about sleep that transacted the restoration benefit.
The memory refreshment was related to lighter, stage 2 NREM sleep, and specifically the short, powerful bursts of electrical activity called sleep spindles, noted in chapter 3. The more sleep spindles an individual obtained during the nap, the greater the restoration of their learning when they woke up.
Of broader societal relevance, the concentration of NREM-sleep spindles is especially rich in the late-morning hours, sandwiched between long periods of REM sleep. Sleep six hours or less and you are shortchanging the brain of a learning restoration benefit that is normally performed by sleep spindles.
It was not until 1924 when two German researchers, John Jenkins and Karl Dallenbach, pitted sleep and wake against each other to see which one won out for a memory-savings benefit—a memory researchers’ version of the classic Coke vs. Pepsi challenge.
I had was the amount of deep NREM sleep you had obtained that night, I could predict with high accuracy how much you would remember in the upcoming memory test upon awakening, even before you took it. That’s how deterministic the link between sleep and memory consolidation can be.
Though I still marvel at Quintilian’s foresight and straightforward description of what scientists would, thousands of years later, prove true about sleep’s benefit to memory, I prefer the words of two equally accomplished philosophers of their time, Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel. In February of 1964,
but it will even salvage those that appeared to have been lost soon after learning. In other words, following a night of sleep you regain access to memories that you could not retrieve before sleep. Like a computer hard drive where some files have become corrupted and inaccessible,
You have, as a consequence, selectively enhanced only those individual memories that you want to keep. It all sounds like the stuff of science fiction, but it is now science fact: the method is called targeted memory reactivation.
When you are asleep, and in NREM sleep specifically, an experimenter will replay half of the previously tagged sounds (fifty of the total hundred) to your sleeping brain at low volume using speakers on either side of the bed. As if helping guide the brain in a targeted search-and-retrieve effort, we can trigger the selective reactivation of corresponding
Said another way, forgetting is the price we pay for remembering.
In 1983, the Nobel Laureate Francis Crick, who discovered the helical structure of DNA, decided to turn his theoretical mind toward the topic of sleep. He suggested that the function of REM-sleep dreaming was to remove unwanted or overlapping copies of information in the brain: what he termed “parasitic memories.”
powerfully, yet very selectively, boosted the retention of those words previously tagged for “remembering,” yet actively avoided the strengthening of those memories tagged for “forgetting.” Participants who did not sleep showed no such impressive parsing and differential saving of the memories.IX
Contrary to Francis Crick’s prediction, it was not REM sleep that was sifting through the list of prior words, separating out those that should be retained and those that should be removed. Rather, it was NREM sleep, and especially the very quickest of the sleep spindles that helped bend apart the curves of remembering and forgetting. The more of those spindles a participant had during a nap, the greater the efficiency with which they strengthened items tagged for remembering and actively eliminated those designated for forgetting.
What we have at least discovered is a rather telling pattern of looping activity in the brain that coincides with these speedy sleep spindles. The activity circles between the memory storage site (the hippocampus) and those regions that program the decision of intentionality (in the frontal lobe), such as “This is important” or “This is irrelevant.” The recursive cycle of activity between these two areas (memory and intentionality),
“As a pianist,” he said, “I have an experience that seems far too frequent to be chance. I will be practicing a particular piece, even late into the evening, and I cannot seem to master it. Often, I make the same mistake at the same place in a particular movement. I go to bed frustrated. But when I wake up the next morning and sit back down at the piano, I can just play, perfectly.” “I can just play.”

