Dream

"You're lazy, you know that?" she fumes, storming out of the room. "Some days, all you do is sleep, sleep and sleep!"

It's not the first time I've gotten that. In fact, I get it all the time. I spend many days just lying in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness, either staring at the ceiling or sleeping. People are convinced there's something wrong with me. Maybe there is. They say it's normal to love sleep, but not as much as I do. 

They don't understand. When I sleep, I retreat into my own world of oblivion. A peaceful world where my troubles in real life are forgotten and drowned out in a wash of darkness. In real life, I feel like I am suffocating slowly, like something heavy and sad is crushing me painfully. When I sleep, that weight slips away from me and I feel more relaxed. 

There are many nightmares, though. And in most of the nightmares, it's all about that day. Seeing your sandals floating in the water all over again, falling into a stream, being underwater and unable to breathe. Seeing you struggling far away from me and no matter how hard I try to swim to you, try to reach you, I never am able to get close before seeing you sink and disappear into the water. 

When I wake up, more often than not, my pillow is damp and salty, my eyes wet and hot. But I like sleeping, even with the nightmares. Because while there are nightmares, there are just as many good dreams as well. And these dreams are what keep me going, are what make up for all the nightmares. They're my solace.

People don't get why I love sleep so much, and I don't think they ever will. Maybe because I'm not really in love with sleep itself. I'm in love with the dreams. In dreams, I get to see things that aren't existent in real life. I get to imagine. I get to see things that I wish I had, things that I miss oh so dearly. 

Perhaps I love to dream so much because sometimes when I dream, you're there again.