I fake woke up three times this morning. It happens. I sleep for an hour or two on the couch. I wake up, sit up, feel so super sleepy, and realize all of the windows are gone, so it's a dream. What a waste. Throw myself back down. A little bit later smothered by an old teddy bear. The windows are right, I knew there was something wrong earlier. Wait. Teddy bear? I'm sleeping with a sheep, at the moment, a monkey and a bat, not a teddy bear. Crawl out of bed and see my reflection on the blank television screen. Why I am I wearing a teddy bear head over my own? I don't remember owning this particular hat. Try to sleep on the floor. On the couch really. This time it must be real, everything looks so right, bright and normal, and I can hold my eyes open easily, but why am I wrapped in ribbons? Oh. Please just give me a break. The thing about actually waking up is that breathing is suddenly so much easier. It feels so slow, heavy, and hot before. Panic sits on my chest with an old teddy bear, pries open my teeth and sticks a leg down my throat.

In the evening, after errands have been run and the workday is over, I look forward to hanging out at home and changing into my jammies. The act of taking off my regular clothes and putting on something soft and loose and cozy symbolizes for me the casting off of the demands of the world and slipping into my comfort zone. I have many different sets. most of which are bright and ridiculously patterned, but the sock monkey jammies are my absolute favorite.