A fellow undergraduate related this story to me, which took place at Rutgers University in the late 70s during the week of final exams. I missed it, or slept through it, or wasn't there, I don't remember. But over the years I have thought about it and visualized it over and again in great detail as though I were watching a scene in a film. I am strangely attracted to the metaphor that this story strikes for me. I often think of how people don't like to be awakened, particularly when they are not prepared for it, and especially when they are awakened rudely.
Most people truly enjoy their sleep.
I can't say I blame them. In a similar way, I've noticed, most people seem to enjoy their patterns of living. These might include patterns of getting ready to begin one's day, patterns for cooking dinner, mowing the lawn, or driving a car. People are often quite proud of their patterns. This novel introduced my interests and curiosity to Buddhism.