Beneath the guise of sleep I see my dreams. To be a break dancer.

This comes as a surprise to you, I'd wager. Indeed, to me as well. Lurking in the depths of my subconscious, only to materialize in slumber, my body contorts impossibly.

I awake each morning to find my feet pointed towards opposite corners of the bed, my head closer to the middle of the mattress than the top. The pillows have long since found residence upon the floor. Their disheveled appearance speaks volumes of the abuse they suffered before retreat.

One arm is usually asleep, and with being bent beneath my body weight and then twisted in a fistful of blankets, who can blame it? In one of my more dexterous positions, I am able to sleep with my face pressed to the bed, and my toes pointed toward the ceiling.

Denying what are obviously my inner yearnings, I spend most of the day moaning about how my back aches, how my joints feel enflamed.

I have tried delving into my psyche, tried finding the meaning of it all. These are recent activities. I regaled myself with explanations of having a large mattress all to myself, of not having another person there to be considerate of.

But, no. I think these wild urges materialized from me being home...here, in Wisconsin...here, in the break dance capital of the country. "When in Rome..."

Today, Mom presented me with a body pillow. A body pillow. I think her intention is to add it to the pillowy forces who work to subdue me every night. The body pillow does look marginally more intimidating than the current shammed forces. I wish it luck.