I don't understand where I am, or whom I am for that matter. Just when I realize that I was asleep, I'm already moving. Not to a beat or anything really... just my body reacting the normal way it does when you awake from a drunken slumber.
I start to think, "Today is the day! Today is the day that I will finally do something."
It's just then you realize the whole reason you woke up in the first place is because you fell asleep, yet again, on the couch. Your life isn't going anywhere... and in fact, it might be going the wrong direction. It's only then that you start to panic, and start to wonder all those things you were really thinking were real or fake. Turns out, it was just another dream...
"How did I get here?"
"Where was I?"
"What time did I go to sleep?"
All valid points to wonder when Ol' Purple is holding your body in its gentle grasp. It holds me better than my own mother, at least when I'm awake. Falling asleep and waking up there is a completely different story.
It's as if past 4am your body and the couch enter into an battle of biblical proportions. The couch wants its rest for the day, but so does your body. After a long day at work, sitting... it's nice to come back to the couch... if only for a little while. The couch knows its purpose: a sitting/laying device.
If you want somewhere to sleep, you'll need to go with a futon. We have one of those too, but he has been demoted to the outside area... for now.
So it's then, around 4:49am, that the couch has finally had enough of your body laying on it. The couch decides to eat away at your rebuilding muscles, torn skin, and coughing body. By the time I wake up, I look far more left over than ever before. How is it that a full nights sleep on a couch can be worse than sleep at all.
It's all a mystery to me... until I install hidden camera to see that couch beating my ass.
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