Sleep is, by all extents of the imagination and the limited definitions by human language, a state in which one lays dormant while the world passes you by, hour by hour. A plane of exitance where time distorts, where hours feel like years or minutes feel like seconds. Your skin and bones fall heavily on the mattress, it wraps around your limbs as it consumes you. There is warmth so familiar, like a mother's touch, it caresses you and your waking thoughts bleed away, pooling beneath the frame for which you lay. Dark corners disappear, the creak and rattle of wood and pipes dance together in a lulling rhythm, when once they clambered like hellfire in a bear's den. The eyes for which you observe this wretched world from, yet also behold magnificent beauty, grow dry and cold. The eyes fall like stage curtains, heavier than a boulder. The mind is left alone from the world, in a soundless, sightless void. It the most frightening place you've ever known. Your eyes wrinkle as your fight to weep, but the tear nigh fall from your cheeks. This is no longer Earth, logic does not work here, in the land where hands reach through rocks, and the horizon does flips.

In tireless desperation, you build your house with the pieces of a life you knew, so that maybe this darkness can feel whole. The index has been shuffled, and when you reach into the box of love and care, you pull from it a long-buried trauma you too soon forget. It's wrath grabs your floating, formless, helpless body by the ankles and drags it through nails. Where once, you could at least breath, the air is suffocating. You want to go back, escape this horror you made yourself, but your screams and cries fall on deaf ears. You feel your fight and life reduced to one, two, three more long, pained drags of air.
And then, your lungs fill, and the burning, slimey palm releases your body. You don't remember how you got here, The sky is always changing color, and the faces of the people around your shift endlessly. You stand and lose balance all over again, fumbling through this land you now inhabit. It smells like him, doesn't it? That sweet, homey scent that could cripple an army, and has your heart beating again. You push past these faceless bodies, feeling their gruff texture, wandering through this maze of memories until you find him. His face hasn't settled, but you know it's him. His smile returns from the ether and his skin is soft to the touch. You remember. The crowd that impeded your journey now falls away, and suddenly you back in that room, in his bed, caressing his hair, feeling his heart beat. He speaks a language only you understand, and when you look into his recovered eyes, your flesh makes sense again.

Something is wrong, this bed is too small, these walls aren't right, that's not his outfit. He's grabbing you too hard, you're sweating too much, and the birds that sang outside scream and beep.
Your lungs draw in stale air, your eyes fly open, and you body jerks violently as your confused and tortured body scrambled for the alarm clock. The bed pulls you back with a tempting allure, and you yourself want so desperately to return to that world, to be with him where you otherwise wouldn't. Maybe if you close your eyes again. This world can wait.