An old one.

The Beauty of Sleep

I spent 10 days scaling the walls of the control towers, choking on the vomit of their protrusions. But as I reached the top, and they laid down their cigarettes for good, I danced a dance of joy. Gripping as I was with my fist, I couldn't escape the tumble. A quick look down and it all seemed closer. If only I had known I was falling. It was a smooth ride, all the same - as if I were drowning in air. And when I hit the ground, the cold sweat tingled, my startled eyes opened. The realisation that it had all been a dream made me want to take the ride again. The thrill, the experience, the FALL. If wishes were horses…

I found my feet in the shower.

© April 2007, Douglas Taylor.