The pervasive emptiness of loneliness cannot touch me here, for when I sleep, I know I am loved.
Sleep beckons to me with its warm embrace, with promises to soothe the gaping hole inside my chest, filling the cold, empty crevice with the warmth of a loving embrace. Dreams have become my home now, bringing a loving warmth, a warmth that I have longed for every day. These dreams weave my soul together, showing me pictures of what life could be—what life should be. Its loving embrace keeps me chained to my bed, away from the cold reality that I wake to every day. Here, there is no pain, no loneliness, no inherent longing for tender love—one that feels like sunshine kissing the skin, one that feels like the dew on a cool morning, one that feels like the rising of mist—as it is already there, wrapping me up in its arms, holding me tight. Everything is perfect there, beautiful and kind. Why would I ever want to leave?
Why would I ever want to free myself from its loving chains when freedom means existing among the empty, existing among the cold and heartless. Why would I ever want to wake when everything and everyone I love is right with me as I sleep? There is no distance between us now, there is no deep emptiness—deep loneliness—that is so often ever-present in the waking world. There’s no sadness nor judgment nor fear; there is only connection and love and joy. The pervasive emptiness of loneliness cannot touch me here, for when I sleep, I know I am loved.
