sleep it off

I am lying on my bed, the alarm rings and tells me that I should start working out soon to make up for the workout I did not do last night. Just 30 more minutes, I tell myself, but that soon passes. Now it’s time to go to work, and that I can’t do as well. I cannot do anything. I just want to lie on my bed and sleep it off. I need to pee, but I don’t want to leave the safety of my room. The curtains are heavy and block off most of the light, so that it seems that my room is still clinging on to the night. Eventually I get up, I open the door, and the sunshine bounces off the floor into my eyes. Groggily, I get to the kitchen, pee, drink some water, and collapse back into bed. I am defeated. I lie on the bed and try to sleep it off, but I am not exactly sleeping, it is a state between wakefulness and sleep, and it is interspersed with bouts of peeing and drinking. It starts raining heavily outside, and someone is taking the clothes inside. I sleep it off, and thoughts race through my head – are these dream thoughts, or lucid thoughts? I notice the kitchen window is open, and the rain has breached the kitchen, leaving puddles of raindrops across the floor. I wonder that I am wasting my Thursday in bed, spending it as fruitfully as the nights you spend watching American Idol or Wrestling or whatever’s on television at night. I’m surprised my piss is still clear, it must be the fourth or fifth time I’ve interrupted my sleep, and as I walk back, I see it’s already 5pm. The kitchen window is now slightly closed, the rain has long since stopped, and the puddle is no longer there. I lie on my bed and sleep it off. Time bends and warps in this dream state. It stretches and swirls like an impressionist painting, the sky is blood red, and the figure by the pier stares straight at you and screams wordlessly with his hands on his sickly green face. The door opens, and I hear the dog barking, my mother cooing inanely. Life intrudes, but I cannot sleep it off any longer, I am getting a headache from sleeping, so my bed spits me out and now I have to get on with this life, like some avatar in the SIMs, I have tasks to do, I have to cook something, acknowledge my father’s greeting, mumble no, I’ve not had my dinner yet, sweep my greasy hair aside, ignore the messages on my phone. Oh, life intrudes, it must.



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