As I was going through pictures the other day, I noticed that a surprisingly large number of them were of people sleeping. Why am I creepily taking pictures during these rare and quiet moments instead of sleeping myself? I'm not entirely sure.
Funny that something as intrinsically solitary as sleep is something most creatures don't like to do alone.
I still remember so clearly the way that listening to my parents' measured breathing in the night could banish all fear of dreams when I was a child. Just being physically near them was enough.
It brings to mind the main character in George MacDonald's Lilith, when he hears the voice of his love from across the divide of sleep, of death.
"Are you coming, king?" it said. "I cannot rest until you are with me, gliding down the river to the great sea, and the beautiful dream-land. The sleepiness is full of lovely things: come and see them."
Sleep is still a precious commodity around here, but sometimes it's worth it to stay awake just a little longer than everyone else to witness that moment of unconscious communion.
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