Exhausted and unable to resist the bed beckoning, I collapse. The soothe comes instantly and overwhelms. I close my eyes: the darkness proceeds to massage my tired nerves. The weight atop my neck is not my neck’s concern anymore, I halt the fight against gravity, and oh what a wearisome fight it was. I stretch my legs, and oh, my calves cry out in euphoric ecstasy. I feel my back relax and I arch it, giving me a sense of satisfaction and relief like no other. The pleasure reverberates along the body and resonates within it, culminating in a hearty groan.
But what is this awkward frame of plastic that prods my nose-bridge and hurts the area behind my ear?
I part my lips in exasperation, while making a sound by sucking in breath while my tongue presses against clenched teeth. (Does anyone know how to properly describe this sound?) I raise my reluctant right arm to remove this terrible eye-aid I rely so heavily upon known as glasses. Then I fling them towards the general direction of my bedside table, grabbed my bolster which I proceed to curl around, and at last, let sleep claim me.
The dream was not surreal, nor was it in my ability to recall what it was, when I awoke the next morning. What I did know was that my head rested upon a padding that was too soft for my liking. It sunk lower than was comfortable, unlike the paradoxical soft rigidness my pillow offered. The question wandered lazily into my mind as I squinted into the daylight: Why am I lying on my bolster?
Then I proceed to notice, I am hugging my pillow. So my only logical explanation was this: The pair rose to duel while I slept. The winner is rewarded the comfort of my warm embrace, while the loser bore the burden of my sleeping head for the next eight hours.