I woke feeling very rested this
morning. I enjoyed the distinct
impression I had slept soundly, if not calmly, throughout the night. As I lay in bed, awake and contemplating
swinging out from under the covers, that girl asked softly, “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” I answered. “How did you sleep?”
“Not that well. You were riding your bike in your sleep.”
“Again? I’m sorry.”
Apparently, in some of my deeper sleep
modes, I kick around quite a bit. For
several years I also loudly gnashed my teeth together. And there are the countless morning I wake
only to find I have basically flung all the bedding and pillows to the floor
in my sleep.
You might think I would recall some of
that. But I have nothing. I may recall a random dream or two. I might wake with a start and some vague
impression of danger. But the kicking and
climbing beast that occupies me in my sleep completely evades me.
So goes one third of my life (with my sincerest
apologies to that girl).
-- Mitchell
Hegman
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