frogdude

48 hour day Right when my day begins my destination is to sleep again.   And I try, during the slow hours of my day, to remember the adventures of my nights.   But the dreams are as elusive as the rest they lay within, Sometimes my desk reminds me of a bed and I think about resting my head on it to see if that's what it really is. I don't think my dreams would escape me here, I have no window for them to fly out. I spend my 48 hour day thinking about my 4 hour night. And then, at the end of the day when I crawl, secure, into my Egyptian cotton sheets. I can think of nothing.