Sans Snooze

In the between of counts to 100 and letting go into dreamland, there is suspension. A floating of sorts while her mind still reels. Body, weightless.The different parts of her slowly morphing back into one for the night. Thoughts entangled. Dreams curated by her subconscious, folded in with manufactured desires, surrounded by an ever present - sometimes louder than others - underlying nervousness, insecure sense of self. 

A tension exists. The deep need for rest and blank space versus the fear of letting go and giving in to Mr. Sandman. Inner control freak resurfacing once again. But here, for an arguably good reason. Protecting the rest of her from nightmares.

She doesn't want to fight. She doesn't want to run. She doesn't want to scream only to hear silence upon attempt. The exhaustion from trying to run, with numb legs, away from the dark armed figure who has trespassed once again. She just wants to sleep.

To go to the happy place instead. What would that feel like? A distant memory, a vague familiarity. Like a lost sneeze - grasping for that satisfaction that has escaped. She knows where to go. Sun on her skin, enveloping her fully. Peaceful silence with only a whir of crashing waves. This is where it's safe. It's the how to get there that is still scrambled.