Syncronized Sleeping: A Journey Into Rapid Eye Movement
I finally realize the source of my madness. There she lies, in her comfortable pajamas, snoozing delightfully while I writhe to sleep on yet another restless night. 'Twas all good but a few evenings ago, when the cumulative effects of consecutive sleepless nights did not bore into my thought process like earthworms into loose dirt. Alas! Those days are long gone. Yesternight I sneaked from my bed of nails to the den down below, where I surf the internet, and do push-ups until my muscles exhaust and my eyes grow weary. I lug myself begrudgingly in a stagnant shuffle to my inevitable fate. I then return to the mattress and gingerly drop my body onto it's lofty contours feeling such as which the cat drags in.
Tonight, I shall endure. I turn, and she turns. She turns and I turn. Her rear end nudges me ever closer to the edge of the bed, and for a moment I contemplate rolling off of the cliff into the unknown darkness below. Yet, I endure. A man is made for many things, of which spooning is not one. The dualities of our body temperatures transform my once comfortable bed into a crucible, unsuitable for sleep. Perhaps I'll lay here awake until the roosters crow in the morning. I was once a master of my dream-scape, toggling through them with the ease of a television remote control, and following their winding paths to whatever ending fate should bestow. Now I only bask in the memory of my dreams.
You may think that love makes all things possible, but in that case, we agree to disagree. I recall a scientific study where cats lived on a conveyor belt for some period of time, and despite their best efforts were unable to achieve the deepest level of their sleep pattern, as they anticipate the ensuing drop. The result was irritability and eventually death for the poor critters studied. It would be rude to propose a second twin-sized bed to settle my sleep woes, or to kick her out of the bed in order to reestablish my happy place. But, a man has to do what a man has to do..
P.S. Wilkinson IV