In the Grasp of Sleep

January 24, 2011
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Awake. I am awake. I am sleepy, but awake.

Must get home, must get home. I need sleep. I must get home.

Sleep is not a good idea here in the forest. Too many dangers, too many potential disasters. No car, no tent, nothing. Just me. My growing drowsiness and me.

Stars twinkling, crickets chirping, it is as if the world is crooning me a lullaby, luring me to my doom.

Eyes heavy. My eyes are getting heavy. I am still far from home. Seven more miles, I can do it. Stay awake. Stay awake.

The temperate breeze twirls around me, tickling my skin like a blanket. A blanket of warmth to aid my slumber. Can’t I just curl up here and sleep?

No. I will die. Wolves are here, bears are here, I have no tent, I have no protection.

Disorientation. Are trees supposed to be shaped like elephants? I don’t think so. I think exhaustion is invading my thoughts, warping my vision.

A bed. A bed, in the middle of the forest. Is this a mirage? No, it can’t be. It is my bed, inviting blankets and all. Right here. My bed came to me because it knew I needed it.

I walk. Clumsily and slowly, I walk towards the bed. One sheep, two sheep… stay awake. Stay awake, reach the bed.

Almost there, almost to my precious bed. Precious bed, precious sleep. I keep walking, two more feet, I’m there.

I collapse onto the bed, wonderful bed.

No. Suddenly I am falling. The bed was an illusion.

I touch ground. Soft ground, leafy green ground. It feels like a bed. A strange bed, but a bed nonetheless.

I close my eyes.

No! Open them. Eyes won’t open. Body slipping into paralysis, mind sinking into dreams.

Awaken. I can’t. I am sleeping.

I have failed.

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