As Shakespeare said-
"Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care. The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast."
The little guy in the back of your mind that handles housekeeping when everyone else takes the evening off is trying to say "Ya know, there are some things I have been worried about...."
Live long enough, you will acquire some really bad actual memories you can replay at night.
What we have here is... failure- to communicate.