I had a really tough time waking up this morning. I was in a deep, deep sleep and when the alarm went off it took a while for it to actually register with me. I was totally disoriented. Didn’t know where I was; and the last thing I wanted to do was open my eyes and get out of bed.
So it seemed like a good idea to respond to this recent WordPress Daily Prompt: “What kind of sleeper are you? Do you drop off like a stone and awaken refreshed, or do you need pitch black and silence to drift off to dream?”
My aunt needed pitch black. She’d pull down her shades, then close her drapes (which were double lined so no light could shine through) and then she’d put on a sleep mask. I tried the mask once. It gave me an extreme case of claustrophobia. She also needed absolute quiet.
But let me tell you, when she fell asleep the house could have fallen down around her and she wouldn’t have known. Me? When I was young I slept like a log. I went to bed rather late, but I fell asleep the instant my head touched the pillow. And, like my aunt, I heard absolutely nothing once I was asleep. It’s like I’d been transported to never never land. An earthquake wouldn’t have woken me up.
It took me a while to become fully conscious. I’d been in a really deep sleep. You know, what I mean, don’t you? When you wake up confused. Not sure where you are. Or what time it is. Or what day it is.
When you’ve probably been snoring. Really sawing wood.
Or when you wake up drooling.
I could feel myself climbing out of my stupor. Becoming aware of my surroundings. But it was very gradual. Like slow motion.
Something was tickling my face. It was feather-light. Couldn’t figure out what it was. Because I was really still asleep. At first I just tried to brush whatever it was away. But it kept coming back. First on one cheek. Then the other. Then an eyelid. Then my nose. My forehead. My chin. It felt like a bunch of teensy tiny flies flitting