Hypnagogia
I arrived home after a very long day, utterly exhausted. I needed to take a shower, I needed to eat, but mostly, I needed to go to bed.
I started with the shower. I undressed, allowing my clothes to fall to the ground, not bothering to place them in the laundry bin. Standing beneath the falling water, I closed my eyes, relieving myself of wakefulness for the first time since tearing myself from sleep early that morning. I fell into the hypnagogic state, that unusual meeting place between wake and sleep, brought back to consciousness by the sound of a loud thud on the other side of the wall.
Neighbors, I thought.
I turned the shower off and dried myself, hung my towel on the rack to dry, and dressed in my most comfortable pair of pajamas. I made myself a quick dinner, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and orange juice, and sat on the couch, turned on the television. I can't even recall which program I turned on. I looked at the TV, stared at the picture on the screen, but didn't actually see anything. My mind was elsewhere, already at rest.
I became vaguely aware of a sound that seemed to come through the wall of the bedroom on the other side of the living room. Singing, talking, or crying, I wasn't sure. My roommate. I ignored it, continued eating my dinner and watching television in a daze. I finished my sandwich and apple juice and realized I was still hungry. In the kitchen, I searched the refrigerator and the pantry for something else to eat.
Cereal, I decided, finding a box in the pantry. Perfect.
I poured the cereal into a bowl and added milk, my back to the living room. I heard a door open followed by the sound of seldom-used limbs and joints creaking. I turned in time to see my roommate pass the entrance to the kitchen, crawling on the floor. I stood at the counter and ate my cereal quickly, eager to finish and get into bed.
I entered my darkened bedroom and returned to the bathroom, returned the towel I’d left on the floor to it’s proper hanging spot. I brushed my teeth, fantasizing the moment I'd lay in bed, pull the covers up and over me, and fall into a wonderful, deep sleep.
It was even better than I imagined. In bed, I tried not to think about the fact that I'd have to be up and out of the house in just a few, short hours. Instead, I focused on the comfort of my warm blanket, the moonlit darkness that bathed the room, the total silence. This was one of my favorite things about living out in the country, my closest neighbors miles away. The absolute quiet.
I fell back into hypnagogia. My thoughts became disorienting as I made my way into a strange world composed of logical reality and bizarre impossibilities. I climbed a very tall tree, a dead, leafless tree decorated with Christmas ornaments. At the top, I balanced myself on a thin, crumbling branch, walking out and over crashing waves of the ocean beneath the tree. The branch broke and I fell, landing into the comfort of my bed.
I startled, awake and aware, seemingly refreshed by the adrenaline of falling from the branch. But I was confused, too, wondering if I'd slept through the night and if it was time again, already, to wake up and start the day. Rational thought and recollection began to creep back in. It was night. I'd just fallen asleep, after arriving home, showering, and eating dinner.
I thought of my clothes on the floor in the bathroom, the peanut butter and jelly, the cereal, my roommate crawling past the kitchen and toward my bedroom. She was in my room, now, sitting in the corner.
A knot of terror burst deep inside me, flooding my entire body in seconds, and my heart began to pound. I could hear the rush of blood inside my head as a thought occurred to me.
I live alone.