Layla Miller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
butterflyfactor) wrote2010-02-21 03:03 am
butterflyfactor) wrote2010-02-21 03:03 am
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I've been waking up in the middle of the night, staring at the dark, no memory of dreams or falling asleep. It doesn't feel like rest. Awake, and not awake. That's it. So it's weird when I'm aware, for the first time in a week, of being somewhere in between. I know I'm not awake, but I know I could be, shortly. I don't know what roused me, I don't know what made me aware, precisely. All I know I'm aware of is the dark, the quiet. I'm asleep. I'm sleeping. Maybe this is part of a dream, thinking I'm in the space between a dream. That doesn't make sense.
What's really strange is hearing my own voice, perfectly clearly, like I was just talking to someone across the room, say "Mom," and then I'm awake for real, sitting up, gasping and sweating a little.
Layla was leaning forward, though her chin was tilted up. Her eyes were wide, her skin felt clammy. The bedsheet was pooled in her lap.
She couldn't remember anything for a moment, and the intense, bone deep sensation of weariness and loneliness that hit her, with no context, made her bury her face in her hands and press the backs of her hands against her knees.
What's really strange is hearing my own voice, perfectly clearly, like I was just talking to someone across the room, say "Mom," and then I'm awake for real, sitting up, gasping and sweating a little.
Layla was leaning forward, though her chin was tilted up. Her eyes were wide, her skin felt clammy. The bedsheet was pooled in her lap.
She couldn't remember anything for a moment, and the intense, bone deep sensation of weariness and loneliness that hit her, with no context, made her bury her face in her hands and press the backs of her hands against her knees.