The Couch Calls

November 16, 2012

Head throbbing and eyes closing, it’s time for rest. Time to kick off my boots and put on the comfiest leggings I own and snuggle into a cocoon of perfect unconsciousness. I will dream up a world in which there are fireplaces and cooks and coffee and blankets. The ground outside will be covered in snow. And there will be a never-ending supply of turkey, mashed potatoes, and gravy. I will read and sleep and read some more then sleep and sleep and sleep.

There are no clocks and there are no places to be. Only the couch calls my name. Slowly I start to get fat from all of the gravy eating and couch sitting and sleeping, but oddly I accept this… for a time at least.

I dream of this world in which my heartbeat slows and I can finally catch a deep breathe without worrying what I have to do next. I let these dreams consume my sleep until my mind is rudely awakened with the sound of a blasting alarm clock. And so it continues.

I may never get the rest I need, but I can always sleep when I’m dead right? At least I still have my dreams. 

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