Grey Light Through the Window

I do not get up early. It’s not that I cannot or that I will not, I simply do not. Now, of course, there are the days where I have to be at work by 5:30 in the morning, before the world really begins, but normally, generally, I do no get up early.

My mind phases in and out of a dreamy haze for most the mornings as my roommates go about their morning rituals. Clomps and bangs, the running of the sink, the ding of the toaster oven. I feel the weight of their footsteps and their rush out the door, but me? I simply turn back over and drift back into the sleepy void.

It’s Fall here and the pale grey October light plainly, listlessly showers into my room like the cold water in my tiny New York bathroom.  I open my eyes and look over at my phone; it’s eight in the morning. My body knows a normal person would be up and at ‘em, but again I drift back off. SLAM goes our front door as my roommate hurries off to her internship, she always sounds more rushed than she probably is. I don’t even bother with the clock this time, back to the void.

My mind swims through an unconscious subconscious sea and the colors are vivid, the experiences unreal. HSSSSSS goes the shower with its squeaking knobs. The light in my white room has darkened slightly, cascading over my light blue sheets turning them to warm bundles of icy cloth.  However many threads this counts, it is enough.

That singing and dancing inside my head, that buzz I get when the warmth of the pillow hits my face, that gentle whirring of my fan elate me in a way no drug ever could. That creeping darkness, like the lights going down before the show begins, brings me back to a place I know. I may not always control it and I may not always enjoy what I find, but it is a place where I am wholly alone and completely myself. A magnificent land where gears and cogs have paused and ones mind can simply relax. Colors can swirl sideways and remembered friends frequently stop by and say half remembered words from years before. The snow is falling and the hills have only the bare occasional tree to keep my company. That is sleep, that is rest, and that is beautiful.

In our 24 hours world with papers and projects always due just around the corner and coffee to keep us stimulated for days, sleep is our reprieve. Even in this busy, busy world where you should always keep your promises, promise yourself some sleep. Sleep is that final escape from it all, even if only for a few hours. Cherish your sleep and pull those covers up a little higher. Roll over and rest your head. Then, when you are good and ready, get up and see the world a little brighter.


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