To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
I suppose it's because I went to bed late last night. Even though I slept like a rock and didn't get up very early this morning, I. Am. Sleepy.
My eyes have a warm feeling behind them, like they want to cozy down with the eyelids. When my eyelids kiss my eyes, there is a languorous feeling of wonderfulness. Everything is right with the world and things are the way they are meant to be. But then I open my eyes and that feeling disappears, leaving a yearning behind.
This sleepiness has a warm, fuzzy feeling, but it's also exasperating. I can't give in to it until many hours from now. And then I might be doing something I like and have waited to do, and so I go to bed late again. And repeat this whole cycle again tomorrow.
The weather doesn't help. It's a grey, cool day, with little natural light. It's not as dark as when it's raining, but there is an absence of light that would have woken up my eyes and my brain, reminding them that it's day and to use these few hours well, before the early night clamps down on us and destroys all incentive to move about. After dark I prefer to retreat to the warm wood stove in the kitchen and not move far from it.
Perhaps I should make an effort tonight to go to bed early; to crawl between the sheets with warm blankets over me and let that warm, fuzzy feeling come and engulf me into its dreams. To do like my cats, that are now curled into furballs in their beds, talking with Morpheus. That sounds like an excellent idea.
My eyes have a warm feeling behind them, like they want to cozy down with the eyelids. When my eyelids kiss my eyes, there is a languorous feeling of wonderfulness. Everything is right with the world and things are the way they are meant to be. But then I open my eyes and that feeling disappears, leaving a yearning behind.
This sleepiness has a warm, fuzzy feeling, but it's also exasperating. I can't give in to it until many hours from now. And then I might be doing something I like and have waited to do, and so I go to bed late again. And repeat this whole cycle again tomorrow.
The weather doesn't help. It's a grey, cool day, with little natural light. It's not as dark as when it's raining, but there is an absence of light that would have woken up my eyes and my brain, reminding them that it's day and to use these few hours well, before the early night clamps down on us and destroys all incentive to move about. After dark I prefer to retreat to the warm wood stove in the kitchen and not move far from it.
Perhaps I should make an effort tonight to go to bed early; to crawl between the sheets with warm blankets over me and let that warm, fuzzy feeling come and engulf me into its dreams. To do like my cats, that are now curled into furballs in their beds, talking with Morpheus. That sounds like an excellent idea.
Comments
Post a Comment