Thursday, May 10, 2007


For me, one of life’s greatest pleasures is sleep. Which some would argue is not a pleasure at all since the sleeping person is not aware of their feelings. But I treasure the actual process of drifting off to sleep. The process of getting to sleep is like a warm embrace.

It feels like I'm climbing into a steamy hot tub, burbling and gurgling in anesthetized frothiness. I like the feel of submerging myself senseless into the steamy waters. This slipping into unconsciousness is the part I treasure.

I'm a ship that has pushed off from the dock. People and places shrink as if a zoom lens is widening. I let go of the tether. I drift and I become unaware of all. The faces become dots in the horizon and my ship sinks into the vast ocean of unconsciousness.

Tiredness starts with my head. It bobs in the wake of sleepiness. I lean back. I close my eyes. Unconsciousness approaches. And as it does, I'm only aware that I'm drifting, drifting into a quiet place. The voices of people around me echo in distant indistinct murmurs. I hear their sounds but not their words. Sleep has washed over me and I succumb.

I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake. - Ernest Hemingway