sleep to dream

i never used to be a troubled sleeper

my entire life
no matter what age
no matter what time i crawled into bed
i slept

i slept soundly, deeply even
dreams were a regular occurrence

dreams both realistic:
the type that when you wake
you're left disheartened it had all been just imagined
or grateful it was only in your mind

and fanciful dreams:
loopy mind trips through an indecipherable abyss

there were nights of lucidity
and also dull, lethargic, brain-dead slumber

but there was always sleep

it's been a new sensation
getting used to the physicality of tossing and turning
the never-ending movement of my monkey mind

at first i believed that perhaps
it had to do with not getting enough exercise

in the past
those few and far between nights
when i hadn't rested, log-like
it had often been a result of having spent the day
lazy, propped up, bored

but as of late
(while still no gym bunny)
i've been running regularly & weight training as well

it then dawned on me
that perhaps the pillows or the mattress were to blame
but both had been my nighttime bunkmates
for well over a year by now

so the feeling nagged on
like an itch just out of reach

something had shifted inside of me
deep inside, buried
something big was clearly wrong
as though i was no longer upright within myself

this realization hurt
because it was incorrect somehow
close, but just an inch or so off

like a shoe that didn't quite fit
it wasn't Me that felt wrong
but something bigger, something altered
both a part of myself yet removed from me as well

and like that, i knew
the muscle memory had formed an indentation in my bed
an indentation next to my boyfriend matt

two bodies
at rest side by side

my joints were unable to ease into this new configuration
just my mass beside the dog's
i'd become so used to sleeping next to him
that it had altered even the way i'd slept
before we'd ever met

this was shocking
to be slowly, steadfastly becoming a complete person again
by the light of day
only to be reminded nightly
of just how lost i was

my body's sheer inability to shut down
to disengage and recharge for another day

in the time since matt's death
that i've found myself in someone else's bed
or found someone else in mine
even without (at times) an awareness of his full name...

my eyes fall heavy
an intangible cocoon feeling becomes all-encompassing
our mini-universe is vibrant
but all in tones of deep blue and purple

the weight of a man beside me

it's not a vague internal need
like the desire for dessert or attention
but rather comes from regions unexplored
a mind-click, like alcoholism, that allows my heart to slow

it's bliss really
dreamy, drifting bliss
safety, not from the outside world
but from myself

the awareness that human life rests near
gives me just enough room to escape