The sleep of no dreaming

Have never mastered that. Don't think I ever will. Even tiny catnaps will see my spent eyes flitting about urgently under my harried eyelids, trying to seek out all the little fragments of the vast dreamscape that drench every pore of my slumbering mind.

Hmm. I should win a prize in indiscriminate adjective-stuffing.

But (nope, me not done yet! *eeeevul laugh*) I absolutely love the fact that I dream so much, so relentlessly. And remember most of them. Flying dreams, falling dreams, swimming dreams. The most recurrent one is of the ocean, with me bobbing about in it, gently moving up and down with the swell. And it's never terror I feel, just a tremor of surreal tranquility. And complete silence.

Well, for me at least. Apparently, I snore.

Ah well. More clouds.
*slurp*