As I blink the sleep away, I find I’m leaving a reality I knew to be as real as the bed that’s now beneath me.
I’m entering a world of harsh surprises when my eyes open
the things I believed to be real are turning upside down, and the feeling is foreign but exasperating in its familiarity.
My eyes need saline, my mind needs another hour, another year.
I do this every day.
Half here, half there, I bask in what I begin to re-alize are just fantasies now as the seconds slide away before I am fully here. Or there.
It’s sweet and it’s sad and I’ll never know which to believe.
I squeeze my eyes shut before they can focus on my horizontal nightstand, willing my synapses to forever know the touch, the smells, and the sounds of whenever I was.
My mind resigns as I watch the dream worlds drift off, and suddenly they are so beautiful in their un-realness,
so much so that I can’t believe I was ever real at all.
As my mind slowly begins to adjust to the truth(?) that this, this (t)here is what’s real,
my stomach turns just a bit and my head spins once or twice before I slowly slide my legs
over the edge of my bed
and plant my feet fir(tentatively)mly on the ground.
Tonight I will lurch back into restless, tormented sleep, and I’ll miss every waking second of it when we must part
just like I do,