The Science of Sleep

I lie in bed curled up in a semi -fetal position. I'm surrounded by a pod of blankets and pillows. My thoughts are loud. They reverberate through my skull like an earthquake as silence vainly attempts to engulf me. I liken my thoughts to color. Though my eyes are closed, I see every hue scatter and dance across the center of my mind. Reds fire up, along with silvers and purples, but blues take all the glory. An assortment of cerulean thoughts skip in and out like the constant ebb and flow of a wave, never ceasing. Darkness heightens every sense. I feel the warmth of my breath as my exhalation hits the pillow. I feel the blanket on every inch of bare flesh, its softness nearly unbearable. The back of my exposed neck and shoulder are cold in comparison to the cocoon of warmth I’ve created around me. I hear my own heartbeat. I hear the blood flow of my body. I hear my breathing. My mind goes on and on and on. So much is happening in this idle state. It’s beautifully overwhelming. I feel like I’m about to burst. I open my eyes, and I write this.