She slept so well it felt like a time skip.
Like the space between sleeping
and waking had no traffic,
and nothing interesting to stop
and look at in the meantime.
It was a disappointment really,
like a firework that never goes off.
This hollow nighttime efficiency
made her more awake for the days
ahead, but they were without meaning
in the subtext of mundane repetition.
One of the main sales points for devoting
half our lives to sleep was that it showed
us things we could not see ourselves.
A praying mantis eating the face
of a teacher, or a shooting star
that fell into the sea.
Dreamless Sleep
Teleporting Typewriter 