The Sleepless Sea

Sleep can be troublesome, elusive, and stubborn. When the clock ticks away, the sheets strangle, and the pillow hardens, it seems that every time you try to catch it in your gaze, it shies away, slipping under the shadows, peering at you, waiting. And then your bed seems like a massive sea of tangled cloth, exposing a foot to the cold, heating you unbearably and twisting around you in a grasp that is unfathomable in the daylight. You long for the days when sleep was kind to you, caressed you, blessed you with its comfortable numbness. Why has it turned on you? What did you do to offend?

Someone once recounted to me a myth concerning the origins of sleep. I'll tell this to you next time.