By Brian Benko

Bedtime habits die hard. When I was a young kid, there was a nightly skirmish between my sweet but tenacious mother and my fingers clutching the remote. Although half asleep while watching TV, I resisted total shut-eye like grim death. For poor Mom, it was just as challenging waking me for school seven hours later, nestled as I was under my cozy synthetic blanket.

Not much changed for the next thirty years, until I acknowledged that my sleep was not getting the job done. It was no longer Mom tugging at me; it was now my Atomic Projection Alarm clock casting the hour in blood-red numerals on my bedroom ceiling, and my Reminder Rosie interactive clock with its personalized wake-up message from Mom. I’d hoist myself from under my 1,500-thread-count duvet feeling sulky, even resentful.

I began to feel cheated. Where was my good night’s sleep? I built businesses and consulted with entrepreneurs—burning energy in the daytime and crushing the pillows at night—but I was not waking up replenished. Who was that wretch with the dark circles in the mirror? Sleep! I needed it more than ever, and like anything we want badly, it became ever more elusive. I sought it in meditation, gel mattresses, saunas, warm baths, white noise and a glass (or two) of red. That made waking even more challenging. Where was my friendly dream weaver? I wasn’t an insomniac, just a restless sleeper, chasing dream phantoms through misty mountains on a toxic treadmill.

As a guy who quests for a living, I was unable to quit my search.

I discovered through reading that as a sleep-deprived boy, I had likely sabotaged any chance of true excellence in the learning department. That explained all those B minuses and C plusses, I surmised.

Arianna Huffington’s book Sleep Revolution was an eye-opener (sorry!). Understanding the physiology of sleep helped me see that an important part of my life was nonfunctioning. I longed to dream my way to enterprise and create an alternate reality where I was a fully functioning genius, powered by the sand dude. The obstinate little boy was grappling with the grown man. Nobody was winning.

About this time, Abby, a seductive Australian paleo I’d met at Whole Foods, invited me to join her for a weekend of camping in the Berkshires. I’m a city boy: my TV takeaway on camping was total bewareness of bears and paranoia over escaped cons with machetes. But what single man in his right mind would say no to such an offer? I knew I would only lose more sleep forever wondering what I had missed. I manned up, drove north, and followed Abby into the woods.

The trip was a game changer. We crossed an Etsy-made bridge and climbed twig-railed stairs leading to the magical campsite. The air was dense with dew and sweetly scented with pine and a dozen other smells I’d only remotely experienced sitting in a spa at the Four Seasons. It was quiet, yet alive. Aside from the occasional squirrelly squeak and bird peep, it was miraculously silent.

The bed was a revelation in simplicity: a mattress made of organic cotton, kapok, millet hull and wool rested on a layer of wood planks. I undressed and slid between the all-natural sheets. To Abby’s alarm, I fell asleep instantly. I woke hours later, astonishingly refreshed and, uh, ready.

Lovely Abby eventually returned to Melbourne, but she left me with the greatest find of my life. Perfect sleep—I had cracked it. Nature had been holding out on me. Sleep magic was in the temperature, the air, the elements around and beneath me. What I had been chasing was here; I just had to recreate it. But how?

Back in noisy Manhattan, I hustled to deconstruct that amazing feeling before it evaporated. My mind was fresh with unfettered oxygen, my anxiety level had dropped to a doable 3 and those dark circles were in retreat. My brain was poring over possibilities.

If a mere weekend in nature did this, what could this mean over the balance of a lifetime? Sleeping on a cloud inside a brownstone posed a very different challenge. Natural, organic elements were obvious contributors to my newfound wellness. How could I bring the outside in?

Months of research, meeting organic mattress manufacturers, dating a yoga teacher, and some return trips to nature were the cornerstone of my “sleep science project.” It seemed that when I was well rested, I not only had better sex, but I might also lose weight, lower my stroke risk, make better decisions, fight off flu and colds and remember my mother’s birthday. Fortunately, I didn’t stop there. My newfound wisdom led me to open the Clean Bedroom. Now I rise and sleep with equal ardor.

Brian Benko is owner of The Clean Bedroom. For more info, visit TheCleanbedroom.com.