bedtime thoughts

“of all nights, it would be funniest if I died in my sleep tonight.”

“Why’s that?”

“there’s a book at my bedside, open to paintings of skeletons hunched, skeletons fighting over fish, skeletons bedraggled and silly. The chapter is titled ‘Death and the Self’”

“So you are found dead in your bed – what’s the cause?”

“well, exactly – it might seem as if I opened the book, and I let death in, and he just took me. Simple as that. Whoosh.”

“that’s dark.”

“sleep is dark.”