Sunday, September 19, 2004

sleep

That moment when you're midway between awake and fully asleep is the one I'd like to stretch into infinity. You must have noticed it: the one where you can feel the day melt away like a cube of sugar plopped into scathing hot tea. The closest equivalent I can think of is when you plop yourself into the lush, unbelievably soft sofa with a bag of popcorn and look up at the screen and wait for the magic to begin.

It makes sense, then, that this is usually the precise moment someone takes it upon themselves to wake you up, either for entertainment at your disoriented, super-pissed self, or because they need you to do something urgently. It's the equivalent of being pushed off the plush sofa just as the movie's beginning. You mutter sounds that consist of nonwords like 'hmmm'. You're not awake yet if its not a proper word. You shut your eyes tight against the glaring light some ultrasensitive soul decided to switch on. Someone shakes you. Insistent on your denial of being awake by now, you swat blindly out into the general direction of the source of the shaking. If you're lucky, you'll poke someone's eye out and they'll quit bothering you when you're napping. Not likely, though. You sigh and give in. Tentatively, you open your eyes and quickly shut them again. You once read somewhere that staring at the source of harsh light with your eyelids shut helps your eyes get accustomed to light faster. You take their advice and it works. You open your eyes, defiant of the light. Half a heartbeat later, the deadlines resume their vigil above your forehead. Good morning.

Misha at Sunday, September 19, 2004

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