Usually I don’t wake up in the middle of the night. It’s always been a go to sleep, wake and then on-with-my-day kind of deal. In all of my 25 years of sleeping, I can’t remember the last time I woke up from a night’s rest unless bothered. Something wasn’t right. There was something missing a warmth, a feeling of completion, and an unexplainable feeling but a feeling I longed for and found since I moved here. For a second, the thought of that feeling never coming back splashed in my mind. It was silly but an instant sense of uneasiness raced throughout my body. And for another second, I panicked. I started to wave my arms around underneath the covers as if I were creating a snow angel. I was alone in my bed.
Is this a nightmare?
My body snapped out of being in a tired state and I pulled the covers from over my head. My clock on the night stand read 3:00 am. The sky was still dark and Tokyo’s skyline was as vibrant as ever. I lifted my head up and looked forward. There she was. I let out a silent sigh of relief. I thought to myself,