The Witching Hour

Lately in the afternoons I have found it impossible to maintain consciousness. It isn't a general feeling of sleepiness throughout the day, or tiredness that slowly creeps up on you as your caffeine drip steadily tapers off. It happens suddenly, and without warning. One minute I am feeling fine and alert, all engines go, and the very next I nearly crumple to the floor under the sheer weight of my eyelids. My whole body becomes leaden. Every cell slows and solidifies, and I can barely move under their load. My neurons stop firing and my body shuts down, as if for some lengthy hibernation. I am compelled to sleep. I cannot fight it. It overtakes me.

The sleep I experience during these episodes is without question the best of my life. I feel as though I am floating, perfectly at peace. It is gentle and soothing, and not restless as most of my sleeping hours tend to be. It is not a hard sleep, a deep sleep. It is delicate, restful, effortless, like a leaf floating languidly on a gentle summer breeze. And just as suddenly as it came, I am awake, and I can continue about my day. Remarkable too, is that I never remember my dreams from these experiences, which as you know, is abnormal for me.

Without exception, everyday in the last two weeks I have felt this sudden onset of acute afternoon narcolepsy. And, when I do, I inevitably look over at the clock, and without exception, it is 2:28pm. I am not kidding. It is almost frightening. Is this some sort of mystical sign? Some paranormal coma set upon me by unseen forces? Or just a string of remarkable coincidence? Should I not complain, and simply enjoy these universally prescribed naps? Or should I be boobie-trapping my room to protect myself from the aliens? I don't have the answers.