From my Barcelona atelier I recently read Rheana Murray’s brilliant Atlantic piece about keeping screens away from children’s bedrooms. I enjoyed it with the satisfaction of someone who’s been personally practicing this “radical” approach for years.

Murray’s argument for “future-proofing” kids by establishing screen-free bedrooms is compelling, but here’s what struck me: this isn’t just about protecting children from digital addiction. It’s about reclaiming one of the last sacred spaces in our hyper-connected world for what bedrooms are actually designed for—sleep, intimacy, dreams, and the kind of authentic human connection that can’t happen when you’re competing with Netflix for attention.

 The Adult Case for Screen-Free Sanctuaries

Ever curious about the psychology of space and behavior, I’ve maintained screen-free bedrooms for more than twenty years, through multiple homes, relationships, and life transitions. The results have been profound enough that I consider it one of the most important lifestyle choices I’ve ever made—right up there with leaving evangelical ministry and moving to Barcelona.

Here’s what I’ve discovered: bedrooms with screens become entertainment centers, not sanctuaries. They become spaces for consumption rather than connection, for stimulation rather than restoration. When you remove the digital distraction, something magical happens—the bedroom remembers its original purpose.

 The Sex Life Revolution

Let’s start with the obvious: screens are intimacy killers. Nothing destroys romantic spontaneity quite like the blue glow of a phone screen or the mechanical drone of late-night television. When you eliminate digital distractions, you eliminate digital barriers to physical and emotional connection.

Without screens, bedrooms become spaces of genuine presence. Eye contact returns. Conversation deepens. Touch becomes more intentional. The simple act of removing the option to scroll through social media or binge-watch series creates space for the kind of intimate exploration that requires full attention.

In my own experience, this shift from distracted to present intimacy has been transformative. When the bedroom is reserved for sleep and sensuality, both improve dramatically.

 The Sleep Revolution

The science is clear: screens disrupt sleep patterns through blue light exposure and mental stimulation. But the practical reality goes deeper than circadian rhythms. Screen-free bedrooms create psychological boundaries that signal to your brain when it’s time to transition from the active day to restorative night.

Without the temptation to “quickly check” emails, news, or social media “just before bed,” I’ve found my sleep becomes both deeper and more consistent. The bedroom becomes a sanctuary from the world’s demands rather than an extension of them.

 The Pillow Talk Renaissance

Perhaps most unexpectedly, removing screens has revolutionized what happens between sleep and wake. Those liminal moments—the drowsy conversations at day’s end, the sleepy morning connections—these return when you’re not reaching for a phone first thing upon waking or last thing before sleeping.

Some of my most profound conversations with Gina happen in these unguarded moments when we’re neither fully asleep nor fully awake, when the day’s performance falls away and authentic connection emerges. Screens steal these moments by pulling our attention toward digital stimulation instead of human presence.

 The Dream Life

This might sound esoteric, but screen-free bedrooms seem to enhance dream life. Whether it’s the absence of artificial light, the mental quiet that comes from digital disconnection, or simply better sleep quality, my dreams became more vivid and memorable once screens disappeared from my bedroom space.

Given how much I’ve learned about myself through dream analysis—those unconscious processing sessions that reveal patterns invisible to waking consciousness—protecting dream space feels essential to psychological health.

 The Barcelona Test

Living in Barcelona, where life moves at a more human pace and digital boundaries feel more natural, the screen-free bedroom rule feels even more essential. Spanish culture already understands something Americans struggle with: the importance of separating life’s different rhythms and purposes.

When afternoon siestas are culturally respected, when long dinners without phones are the norm, when conversation is still considered entertainment, maintaining screen-free bedrooms feels like participating in a wisdom tradition rather than fighting against modern convenience.

 The Resistance and the Reward

The pushback is predictable: “But I need my phone for the alarm!” “What if there’s an emergency?” “How do I fall asleep without Netflix?”

These are the questions of people who’ve forgotten that humans successfully slept, connected, and dreamed for millennia before screens existed. We managed emergencies, woke up on time, and found ways to quiet racing minds long before digital sedatives.

The reward for this small sacrifice is enormous: a private space that serves its inhabitants rather than demanding their attention, a sanctuary that promotes rest rather than stimulation, a bedroom that enhances relationship rather than competing with it.

 The Adult Challenge

Murray’s article focuses on protecting children, but adults may need this boundary even more. We’ve had longer to develop digital dependencies, more time to normalize the intrusion of screens into intimate spaces, more opportunity to forget what undivided attention feels like.

Creating screen-free bedrooms as adults requires admitting how addicted we’ve become to digital stimulation, how uncomfortable we are with silence, with presence, with the slow rhythms of authentic human connection.

But the alternative—bedrooms as entertainment centers, sleep as screen time, intimacy as something that happens around digital distraction—isn’t serving us.

The bedroom should be for bodies, not bytes. For dreams, not data. For connection, not consumption.

Inconceivable that we need to fight for such basic human experiences? Perhaps. But absolutely essential in our hyper-connected age.