Finally, she showed him a thin, almost flat slice. "For the Stomach Sleeper . Anything higher would strain your spine. This is for the restless who need to stay cool."

She moved to the second, a plush, overstuffed mountain. "For the Side Sleeper . You need loft. You need a buffer to keep your shoulder from collapsing and your neck from kinking. This is for the dreamers who hug the world."

One Tuesday, driven by caffeine and desperation, Arthur entered "The Cloud Vault," a boutique run by a woman named Elara who claimed she could read a person’s spine like a palmist. "I need the best pillow you have," Arthur croaked.

He bought it, went home, and slept for twelve hours straight. He woke up not as a ghost, but as a man. He realized the "best" pillow wasn't the most expensive one—it was the one that finally let him forget it was there.

Are you a sleeper so we can find your specific match?