Forgotten

The void is too tempting to resist.

Caressing my soul with its feather touch.

Whispering for me to follow where my body cannot go.

“Follow me darling; the darkness has come.

It is crying for you to return home.”

And I wonder if its just there. Just beyond.

And maybe, all I have to do is reach for it.

The rain pelts heavily on my windows, jarring me from dozing off again. I swear I could hear someone, something, calling out to me. I really just need to give in and get some sleep. But I have this horrible feeling I’m going to disappear. So, I grip my book with firm hands and try to read the words.

They bounce on the page and I toss my head back on a sigh. I haven’t felt like this is such a long time. It’s silly. Just go to sleep Mia, you are not going to disappear. But my heart starts to beat wildly and I can’t help the irrational thought that I will.

That happens to me sometimes. When I go to sleep, I wake up feeling like I’ve run a marathon. With no recollection of my dreams, but this intense longing for something I don’t understand. It’s gotten so bad that I’ve become terrified of going to bed. The last time, I actually slept for 24 hours straight. I woke up disoriented feeling like I had forgotten something terribly important.

It gets worse the more I put it off, but I just can’t help it. It’s not that disappearing sounds entirely horrible. It’s just that there’s something unsettling in my gut every time I think about it. A shiver works its way up my spine and I rub my eyes. As if that’ll pull the sleep away. This is getting ridiculous. There’s no reason for me to feel like this. Tons of people can’t remember their dreams. And tons of people wake up confused, forgetting exactly what time and day it is. But it’s so typical of me to look too deeply into things.

I lay my book beside me and scoot down in my bed to rest my cheek on my pillow. I just watch the rain pelt the windows. They hit with enough force to cause a white noise effect, making it nearly impossible to see anything outside. With candles casting an orange glow across my room, it’s no wonder I want to sleep. It’s so cozy and warm and the rain is melodic. Maybe just 30 minutes. What could be the harm in that? I set a timer on my phone and pull my blanket tight around me. It feels the most peaceful in these moments. When you’re wrapped tight in the warmth but can feel the cool air against your cheek. Just before your eyes start to flutter closed and every part of your body feels content. Like it’s all meant to lull into sleep. Deep, dark sleep.

“Just 30 minutes,” I whisper as I close my eyes. I know immediately it was a bad idea. I feel as though I’m falling. I try to wake up but it feels like sleep paralysis has taken over. Such an odd sensation of balancing between wakefulness and sleep. I can so clearly tell something feels wrong but I can do nothing to stop it. Even though my heart races and I can feel my chest rapidly rise and fall, my eyes stay softly shut as my mind begins to settle into a numbing haze. And soon, that leaves me and I feel myself fading into the darkness of sleep.