I slept for a thousand years.
It all started as a nap. I didn't even cover myself. I just let go and gravity pulled my flesh sank into the rut of the bed. Behind me remained an invisible cloud of thoughts, fears, dreams, and foggy notions, but it lingered just for a split second and started flowing downwards.
Absence of my consciousness already started sucking all that I've left behind by embracing the other side.
I don't remember what came next. I was probably sweating till my pillow could not soak any more, trickling my acrid flow onto the scarred flooring, pouring on and on till the bed started floating, with me in it as my cradle.
That made my dreams softer, fluffier as if someone was whispering kind words to me.
And that's all.
Whatever I've seen on the other side is none of your business, and even if you think it is, I would never ever tell you.
