by Angela Kempe
Most souls take for granted the simple pleasure of lying their heavy head down onto their pillow before descending into sleep. That feeling of closing their eyes. Adjusting their body left and right. Snuggling down into the pillow. Turning. Feeling their body sink flat into that soft mattress. Lovely sleep. Knowing that as they lay with their eyelids shut. That as they drift off into that sweet slumber. As their mind begins to fade away into a faint, faint dream. That they still know their pillow is quietly there to anchor them into this world. They can feel their ear pressed up against the mushy foam. Feel a sense of gravity. A promise that they will not drift too far.
But, when I drift off to sleep it is quite the different experience. I lay down my heavy head. I feel my pillow briefly behind my neck. It sinks below me. It presses up against my cheek. But once I close my eyes within that black before sleep, my mind spirals out of control. My body is lost. There is no up or down. There is no anchor. My mind begins to drift as innocently as the other, but fear reckons with me and the devil cuts the chain, sending me into a spinning world. I am floating. Spiraling through an endless night. Tumbling into weightlessness.
Sanity pulls me back in vain. Tries to open my eyes or rouse my consciousness.
“You mustn’t drift too far.”
But repetition has taught this soul that sleep sits somewhere beyond the unknown. Only to be discovered by a slow descent, ascending. By standing still while dancing. By veering left without knowing that I am swaying right. Rolling. Accepting the madness of my awakening dream.
I spin without focus. Dreams begin to unravel themselves. I stumble into the vortex of twisting madness. Sweet slumber. Awaken me.