That’s right. Sleep is awesome. Maybe I’m kind of lazy. Maybe.
Or maybe I’m making up for all those years I never slept. All those years I was terrified to sleep. All those years where after my parents tucked me in, I’d slip out of my bed and sneak back to the middle of the stairs. To where I could watch them from the landing, comforted by their mere presence. As long as I could see them, however hidden I remained, I was safe.
I’m making up for all those years when I clung desperately to my dreamcatcher, the one my mom made me. Because at night, the nightmares would be so bad that I’d wake up crying, screaming, wrapped so tightly in my blankets that my circulation was cut off. Curled so tightly into the fetal position that it felt like my stomach organs squished out of my sides.
I still couldn’t protect myself. The dreamcatcher couldn’t keep the waking terrors of vivid reality away from me. And eventually my parents would always catch me on the stairs and chastise me to go to bed, so that in their minds I could get some rest. But rest never came. For the night is dark and full of terrors. Or at least it was.
So ya, for me, sleep is awesome. Sleep is the greatest achievement I’ve achieved and greatest goal that I’ve scored in my budding years of adulthood. Sleep represents the culmination of the years of therapy, of meditation, and of yoga. So maybe sometimes I sleep too much. Maybe to the night owls I go to bed too early.
To them I say whatever. I’m going to take a nap.
And it will be awesome.