Every morning, my absolute favorite thing in the world to do is sleep. That si true on some nights, too; like this one. I am nearly falling asleep as I write, and honestly, I am tempted to just let myself. Only the fact that I made a commitment to myself is keeping me planted until I finish writing. I feel myself drifting, a little unsure of which words in my head are about to make their way to the pages and which are the first notes of sleep floating around my mind.
There’s a weightlessness to the feeling. There’s a de-realization and a longing to be on both sides of the veil. I want to be awake and inspect these thoughts longer, but I also want to follow where the winding path into the shadows will lead me. Will tonight’s dreams be wild like some fantastical movie, or will they be too close to the typical makings of my day? Only one way to find out.