There are times when sleep becomes ascension slightly ethereal. A light fly over the plain, to sink into a deeper sleep, as a crack in the ground, as the rise of a deep bed of the river dug through the millennia. And here ', becomes the winch altitude. It 's a blow to wake up from sleep because is like dropping a thousand feet high. Better instead to land slowly, with a flight feather, a few meters from the ground. Landing is not always easy to add.
The naps are gliding at low altitude that run almost nose to nose on the beach in winter. I sleep well managed are silences of stars in the inky sky. Paper planes soft fruit of our dreams as pillows. But happen to have sleepless nights when you do not know if you're levitating or if you're falling, when the storm makes you read the unbearably cold and do not know if you fall asleep , worst of all when in the morning, you feel that you do not I slept.
summer nights seem to fly in an orbit close to the sun while they know of one thousand pineapple sweat curled around your nose.
There are nights of flight where you hope to never wake up to switch off from reality as long as possible, as a snack, a little cabin after the cold and snow-covered peak, just when you're exhausted. An arbor, shelter from the pelting of a shower. Nights when you do not know if the darkness that surrounds you is tight like a noose around his neck, or great as the outer space.
Tip: tried to sleep summing up of your day. Sleep should be treated early in the morning, not like "go home and throw dirty clothes on the floor and who we have seen we have seen is more like" go out with your beloved and get ready in the morning, even on the day before ". It 'a particular thing in fact. If it is winter cover yourself well, otherwise how on a long trip you will arrive in the morning semi frozen to death. Waking up in cold weather it is really tiring. Do not take hours to sleep, take it off the false interests pretexts for unnecessary, annoying people.
There are dreams that seem to drown in the mist, but the air does not fail, nights when you do not see an inch of his nose. These are the nights that we do not dream anything. You feel well rested, as if a perpetual extension of the previous day you had to tie a tie, as if you had never taken off her clothes and dusk, the twilight hours before, had theatrical illusion.
Some revivals, especially in the late hours of the holidays, are populated by grotesque feelings of abandonment. Landed the airplane your bed and find the house deserted. "Where will all be?" you wonder when the engine of your air speed down yawns. Possible that I have landed in ' lettoporto wrong? My beloved? My family? But then a note to some coffee table, or kitchen, it makes you realize that someone familiar to you, there is no state. Then you can put the plane in its hangar, or rather, make the bed.
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