Sleep

I like sleeping.

Not just for the health benefits—though those are fine, sure.
Not for recovery or muscle growth or REM cycles.
I like sleep because it’s the only place the world can’t follow me.

No breaking news.
No headlines screaming apocalypse.
No wars I can’t stop, no deaths I can’t mourn properly.
No algorithms mining my pain for engagement.

When I sleep, there’s no deadline bearing down on me like an avalanche.
No thoughts chewing through the same tendons night after night.
No shame. No guilt. No credit card statements.
Just the quiet.

And in that quiet, sometimes something holy happens.

Sometimes I’m the man I always wanted to be.
Strong, grounded. Tested—and this time, I don’t flinch.
Sometimes I stand in front of my heroes and speak without fear.
Sometimes they nod.

But mostly, sleep is where the dead still live.

Where Grandpa Vaughn sits by the Christmas tree,
smiling like he never left in ’90.
Where my mom is whole—unbroken, unbent by impact.
Where Jeremy came back from Iraq
and we sat in a diner booth all night like nothing ever happened.

Where my dog plays fetch with ghosts,
and none of them seem afraid.

Where Blake’s sister rolls her eyes at my jokes,
and Joe has both hands and uses one to ruffle my hair before pulling me in close.
Where I am young and the world is soft again.

Sometimes these dreams feel more lucid,
more sacred,
than real life ever does.

They’re not memories.
They’re not fantasies.
They’re visitations.
Communion.
A language I can only speak with my eyes closed.

And so, when I wake up at 3:47 AM, drenched in some unnamed panic,
and the dark feels like a trap,
I sit up.

I watch the headlights cast shapes on the ceiling.
I hear the distant freight trains call out through the city like they’re looking for someone.

And I think about how much my dad would love this couch.
How he’d compliment the view from my window.
How Jeremy would’ve loved my dog.
How my mom would’ve adored my wife.

I want to tell them.
I want to show them.
But I can’t—not here.

So I lay back down.
And I beg for sleep to take me again.
Because that’s where they are.
That’s where I can still find them.
And for a few hours, I don’t have to say goodbye.