“Wake her how?” asked the middle-sized dwarf, hand still clutching his rock, for he thought in essentials.  “The usual method,” said the pot girl, and she blushed.  “Or so the tales have it.”  “Right,” said the tallest dwarf.  “So, bowl of cold water poured on the face and a cry of ‘Wakey! Wakey!’?”

– Neil Gaiman, The Sleeper and the Spindle