Do Not Count Sheep

I close my eyes to try and sleep, and once darkness takes away my physical sight my minds eye takes over. It runs wild, unless kept in check. To sleep I try and think of some place serene, quiet, where I can wander and explore, eventually get so lost in my narrated story that it goes off on its own, seamlessly into dream. So I follow the steps, turn off the lights, tuck myself in and close my eyes.

Tonight I find myself in a forest, early in the morning, the light running against the sides of trees, creating dark shadows. I can see my own breath floating slowly up and swirl in front of me, and I can feel the stinging cold in my fingers. I have to wait, wait for the rest of my senses to join me here in this dream, so for the time I continue to gaze around myself. I begin to feel my arms, wrapped and covered to keep warm, continuing until I can feel my chest beat. I can feel my feet, and that same cold sting in my toes, even through the hard leather boots and wool socks. Last of all I begin to hear, it is the last of my senses to join my mind in this waking wood. Coming in slowly, as if water was draining out, I take a deep breath and hear


Fuck, sleeping is damn hard when you are going dirtybiking the next day.

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