Sleep...

The dark curtain of night falls down over another day. Ending the play with a standing ovation in pinks across the horizon line. I glance to my left and smile at the Shamrock plant in the windowsill. The sun has gone to bed and so has the pretty little plant; its tender leaves and diminutive white flowers closing up and drooping their heads in slumber. Night has come and the softness of my bed beckons to me. I await the sleep to cover me with a drowsiness that will carry me through another night of lucid dreams. I wonder what tonight’s sleep will bring as I anticipate Mr. Sandman.

I mentally run through the day. Focusing on the parts that I want to relive and tossing away the unpleasant memories. Once I vow to forget, it’s relinquished from my psyche; a skill I have possessed since childhood. Most likely brought on by one of the more unpleasant experiences, my mind has the ability to become ‘selectively Swiss’. Objectionable memories fade out to form the holes in the cheese, whereas the agreeable ones stick around to grace my dreams-both day and night-with their presence.

My eyes flutter closed. I don’t fight the pull of the night as I slip away, easing into the blackness. The dreams wash over me like waves licking at my toes. Season after season, the night is a constant. Throughout the changes in my life, the evening invariably comes. With it brings the vividness of the hours of darkness. Colors light up the nighttime. I’m visited by ghosts from the past. Through sleep I am reunited with those I’ve lost, if only for a brief moment.

The spirits of my history comfort me throughout the dark of night. Easing the pain of loss by stopping by for a quick hello. I feel at peace while I softly snore and murmur hello’s to friends and family past. It cannot last, though. I know this and am okay with it. At least we have the night. At least we have this time of peace and respite to interact once again. For this, I am grateful. I do not take for granted my dreams.