The Flicker Before Sleep

Call up the feeling of lying down at the end of a day. Not sleep itself — that's a different country — but the territory you cross on the way there. You know the one. The room is quiet, your body is still, and for a short time you're aware of everything gradually unhooking. Thought by thought, the grip of the day begins to loosen. The effort that normally holds things organized starts to feel optional. You don't need to be in bed right now to find this. The feeling has a texture you can locate even here, even awake. Let yourself recognize it — that specific quality of beginning to let go. In that state, something happens to language. Sentences that started with a clear intention begin to drift. You might have been thinking about something practical — a thing you need to do, someone you need to respond to — and then, without deciding to, the thought takes a strange turn.