It is two thirty in the morning. I lay in my bed, wide awake, gazing at the ceiling. Another night ruined, adding to the countless hours of sleep already lost. It’s almost as if sleep forgets to drape me in it’s cloak every night. Thoughts begin to pour in, noting the day ahead and the challenges ahead. Soon they will drift to the days past and the moments lost. Being a man of situational conformity, I let them do whatever they want to.
I try to deduce my lack of sleep. Science has it’s answer, as do my family. None of them convince me. As of, a scary thought hits me. What if I am afraid to sleep? What if, I am afraid to dream?
. . .
Read more at: The Best Of Halfway To Asphodel: 2015-2017!