In the Arms of Morpheus (2019)

Directed by: Marc Schmidt | 82 minutes | documentary

In Greek mythology, Morpheus is a god of dreams. He is a son of Hypnos (sleep) and the expression ‘lying in Morpheus’ arms’ means ‘to sleep well’. The title of Marc Schmidt’s new documentary (previously published by him, among others, ‘The Rules of Matthijs’ (2012) and ‘Bewaarders’ (2018)) does not indicate what the people portrayed have been awarded, but rather what they are looking for. All the people in the documentary have a complicated relationship with their sleep or with their dreams.

No one is introduced, but from the list of names of participating people it can be concluded that The Ex-frontman Arnold de Boer (‘exploding head syndrome’) and poet Astrid Haerens (insomnia) are portrayed. Haerens kicks off and provides the necessary philosophical reflections and dreamy poetry during the 82 minutes of playing time, but she is not the core of the documentary. It is formed by Emily Simons (sleepwalking) and Roselien Beerten (narcolepsy). They are the only two who complete their journey to a sound sleep. But possibly not quite with the desired result.

For Emily it means a search that takes her to family in Suriname. She frequently becomes violent during her sleepwalking, as if she is possessed, and the paintings she creates in response to her dreams are ominous. In addition to bad memories of the time when she belonged to the Jehovah’s Witnesses, an unsavory family history emerges, with which she tries to come to terms. Roselien in turn falls asleep everywhere. She lives from nap to nap, she says herself. Never slept in, always tired. She also captures her dreams in images, but then in the twilight zone between waking and sleeping.

Schmidt himself also explores the limits of consciousness, for example by muting voices or focusing the camera very tightly. It gives the documentary a dreamy flair now and then, although there is never a real trance. The beautiful shots of Roselien, apparently sleeping peacefully outside in the grass in her thick wool sweater (cinematography: Jean Counet), are contrasted with shots in a chilly clinic, where her sleep is monitored. Ultimately, there appears to be a solution for her narcolepsy: a medicine that allows her to sleep for four hours without interruption. For the first time she is rested by eight hours of sound sleep, but after that she looks slightly disturbed at her dream drawings. The creativity that caused her near-sleep seems to be gone forever.

‘In the arms of Morpheus’ thus shows both sides of the coin. Sleeping problems can lead to increased creativity, but also to reduced joy in life, or even to fears. Photographer Claire Oei, for example, struggles with such lucid dreams that she has difficulty distinguishing between sleeping and waking. She wonders who she really is. Because in her dreams she also feels completely herself. Roselien runs into the same issue. Was she herself when she was suffering from narcolepsy, or has she finally become herself since she can rest and thus have more energy? Finally, Astrid Haerens indicates that there is nothing more lonely for her than dreaming on your own. In other words, what price do you pay to lie in the arms of Morpheus?