Lost Time

Is sleep sweeter then real life? Or is life so bitter you crave sleep?

I woke up with the green numbers
on my clock staring me in the face.
It was 3:04 in the morning.
I could hear the bitter rain
splash violently against my bedroom window
and the distant rumble of thunder
across the night sky.
As I looked around at my room,
I realized that I was drenched with a cold sweat. My nightmare was still trying to cling to me
like an insect helplessly caught in a spider web. I reached over for you to hold me,
to comfort me.
I needed to wrap your arms around me
and pull me close till I was dizzy with your scent filling my head.
But you weren’t there.
In that moment reality crashed down on me,
my fear from my dream vanished.
A sense of regret and loss filled me and my bed. I laid there staring at the pillow
your head had never touched
and the blankets that had never been wrapped around you tightly for warmth.
With tears tugging at the corners of my eyes,
I prayed for sleep to return to me.
Because even a nightmare is better
then reality without you.
I read the clock with blurry vision.
It was 3:05.