First thing.

There’ll be this brief internal argument about which is worse: the sound of the alarm clock screaming or the prospect of leaving a comfortable space

(in my half-awake state, I never remember about the nightmares)

but the screaming wins.

this is what’s going to happen.

I will sit up and get to my feet and move across the room, and I’ll fumble in the dark until I manage to get the clock to stop screaming.

I will seriously consider going back to bed. In thousands of parallel universes, that is exactly what happens.

And in most of those universes, the nightmares are sure to follow. Dreams so vivid I’ll forget that they’re not real. I’ll wake up at eleven with a bad taste in my mouth, a fuzzy feeling in my head, a “you’re-pathetic-and-nobody-likes-you” feeling in my belly.

But when I get out of bed before the sun tomorrow and I feel cold and my stomach hurts a little and I’m groggy and I only want to rest, I’m not going to go back.

I’ll take a gulp of a tall glass of water. I’ll curl up in a chair, with my arms around my knees. I’ll turn on the candles or the Christmas lights, because they’re comforting and I like them. The sun will come up, and the cat will curl up in the crook of an elbow somewhere and purr loudly.

And I’ll reach for a book, and I’ll read and get lost in a world that isn’t real. But I’ll know it isn’t real, and that’s the difference.

And though it’s raining on the roof, I’ll put on jackets and old shoes, and I’ll sneak out of the back door and I’ll walk down to the woods

and though it’s freezing cold and raining I’ll be glowing on the inside

I’ll get home and I’ll make coffee and feel fine…