Shape-shifting:
Once, I woke up in a
half-dream, having fallen asleep with both hands under my cranium,
and was convinced for a
moment that I could volley my head upward like a beach ball.
I tried, and was
half-disappointed, half-relieved.
Detaching:
Once, I woke up sideways in
a reclining chair, the edge digging into my hip.
My Father was shouting,
“Josh! It's almost 6! You'll be late for aikido!”
And so I hopped up,
imagining that I'd sprint to my room.
My right leg hit the ground
running; my left leg hit the ground like a dolphin flipper,
having fallen deeply asleep.
My body hit the ground
heavily,
so I crawled to my room.
I got dressed on my back,
then leaned against a sofa to battle the rising pins and needles.
After about 5 minutes, I
limped to the car, feeling quite grateful for impermanence.
Once, I woke up next to my
girlfriend
(who was sleeping to my
right),
with my right hand draped
across my body
(holding someone's—not my
girlfriend's—hand
against my chest).
I quickly discovered that I
was holding my own left hand
(which had lost circulation
and gone numb).
This would be significantly
easier to explain to her than either
(A) “Somehow, your hand
came off during the night, and it was due to my pulling,” or
(B) “I think we both fell
asleep before it happened—but Jess, I'd like you to meet the newest
member of our bed...”
Transcending:
Several times, I've woken up
with both arms above the covers,
my blanket tucked under my
armpits and wrapped across my chest,
and momentarily concluded
that I had fallen asleep in a strapless dress.
My next-next thought is
always, “No, that's just the blanket,”
but my second thought is
usually,
“My arms are cold; I
should have worn something to cover my shoulders.”
No comments:
Post a Comment