Tuesday, June 23, 2015

The momentary surreality of waking up ...



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.”

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