To all a good night

Right now I’m in slow motion, under the spell sleep casts on me every early morning around this time. Its reliable, inevitable approach, the way it takes me away, is exhilarating, promising refuge from my self. The daily invasion of slumber has become a welcome routine in an aimless life without strict regiment. Yawning, lowered eyelids, recurring dreamscapes flashing like illogical jump-cuts to past déjà vu escapades. The signals fly by, and I ignore them like a near empty gas tank on a road trip, continuing to read or type until I’m at the point of no return to today, skating on the very brink of going under, powerless against the force of rapid eye movement beneath the lids. The comforting return to the closed-eyed fetal position, surrounded by blankets and the gradual loss of consciousness, letting yesterday’s thoughts off the hook until tomorrow yet ultimately surrendering to them in dreams I’ll never remember. The words I write melt together until they become one. Without a care in the world and not a moment too soon, inhale exhale is all that remains of who I used to be as I fall asleep once again.

4/14/05