Nightly Journeys

I get a call last night, or more accurately early this morning, at 12:10. It was Semi-Naked Guy and he's standing at the back door with no keys. He did wake me but I didn't really mind.

"Where do we go when we sleep?" he asked after I had walked the length of the house and let him in, I assume inspired by the groggy nature in which I had answered the phone. He's full of big questions like that, big questions that cannot be contained by his lack of shirt.

I left the conversation for bed, without an answer. Shortly after I could hear soft snoring from the lounge, indicating that where ever we go, he's beaten me there.

I lay awake for a while pondering my destination. The Land of Nod as it were, and the journey we take there each night. We show an innate knowledge of it in the words we choose, all suggesting some form of movement, sometimes "drifting off" like a leaf tumbling in a summer breeze. At other times, the violence of "falling" asleep, of dropping sharply between worlds, as our bodies plummet from our control and our consciousness goes... where?

Before I had tottered off back to bed he said "Thank you for being part of my journey", "You're welcome, I guess" I answered uncertainly.

All I did was open the door.