The Glamour Of Sleep

After a short-lived tick of disorientation a piercing pain remind me that I am alive. My eyes flutter into wide-eyed wakefulness, whereupon I realize I dozed off on the floor instead of the downy comfort of the bed.

The coldness of the parquet floor creep up my wakening skin and it dawn into me I am freezing.

Assuming vertical position is a struggle.

My body, more so my mind, is still languidly hotwired to the lethargic bliss of the protracted holiday break.

I dozed off and glide back into the overriding seduction of sleep, where I dreamt of a world plagued with four-day weekends.