hypersomniac

I love sleep. It really is the greatest thing ever. I would sleep all day if I could. 

I wake up on a Saturday morning, hearing something in the muffled distance that reminds me I'm here and not home. Everything comes rushing back in and I loose my appetite again.

I stumble to the bathroom. Someone is practicing electric guitar at 11 in the am. 

I don't know why I'm trying to turn this into a fucking story. It's not a story--I just love to sleep. Waaaaay too much.

It's the dreaming thing. I love dreaming. Letting my mind take the controls and seeing where things end up. 

When I return to my room, without thinking, I'm back in bed, burrowing under the covers and pillows.

This is very hard to crystallize, if only for myself...it's strange that dreaming can feel more real than being awake sometimes. I'm a little bit scared by that.

Or maybe it's just that I want it to be real so bad that reality becomes too painful.