That moment before the singularity of conscious experience dissipates, I'm having a hard time enduring lately. But every night, falling asleep is just enduring this moment. I lie and meander in thoughts until my focus can no longer be singular, but must be surrendered to forces disparate, dissonant and grand. This is what unconsciousness is, after all.
But I wonder if one day I will struggle on a different bed to retain this tight, mindful integrity that may no longer wake me the next day. I will be fighting then, but I'm sweating the stresses of that fight on my bed right now. I can't sleep if I don't want to ever sleep.
I started sleeping on my chest earlier this year, no doubt in my mind to substitute for a different weight. When I wake up with my heart racing, I know there has to be a healthier way to sleep. Sleeping on my back, there is no weight to make me feel my heartbeat change. These days, I lie with two hands over my heart and, like the months during which I suffocated my lungs and compacted my chest, I do this by instinct. What an ordeal.
