There is a street lamp in front of her window, leaving a long yellow trail on the ceiling, dimly lighting the room at night. When it snows, the light flickers as if the room were blinking.
My girlfriend told me that some of the most beautiful moments together are when we sleep. Sometimes I have trouble sleeping, so I stay up and look at her. Her head gets heavy, like a river stone swinging gently, in the rhythm of her breath.
It's thought that in deep sleep we're unconscious, but it can be that we just temporarily lose the ability to remember, so when we wake up, it feels like sleep was an unconscious gap. Perhaps consciousness is present, but it retreats from the senses and the mind and entwines around itself, like a little evanescent snake biting its own tail.