A voice disturbs my slumber.
“Wake up now.”
It’s urgent, it wakes me up. Who was in my room, someone or something that’s for sure. A ghost, a dream, the NSA. Gasping for air I drift back from that world into this one. Sweating in the cold night air I am I think now awake. A voice, it was a he or was it she.
“Wake up, wake up now before it’s too late.”
I stir and force my aching body upright sitting on the edge of my bed. I pull back the blinds in my room. The glass is opaque with moisture. I wipe the glass and look out at the morning, which looks divine. Soft, warm, silent with gentle rain and mist draped all around
Please day, don’t disappoint. It does of course with cold and rain, an angry afternoon. Nothing could improve on those early morning magic hours. The feeling that I’m left with after sleep.
I hear the voice, see the face. What really happens when I sleep? A time of rest and nourishment. Minds are like machines, a computer resetting back to zero, recharging.
Well this machine has errors. The binary is wrong, ones and zeros out of sync. Could it be that in my resting state does some creature of the night visits to ease my troubled mind?