waking up

He woke up feeling alert but confused. Lately sleep had been one dream after another, one more real than the other. The other day he saw an entire hand of poker being played in his sleep. He had pocket 10s and won it easily when a third 10 appeared on the flop. He longed for the days of dreamless sleep. He knew that one always dreams no matter what but there was a period in his life when he couldn't remember a single thing upon walking up. He remembered those days fondly. In the best of cases he would dream of dolphins, in the worst haunted images of people in his past would keep him up. He didn't need this added layer of stress. Blending in with everybody, everyday, keeping up appearances was challenging enough. The house was a mess and he set about cleaning it, washing the dishes and washing away guilt for being alive when so many other had died. Guilt for having a home when so many others lived on the cold streets of the city. His morning cleaning ritual always calmed him down. He put a record on the turntable, the flock of seaguals eponymous debut. New wave ear candy someone had said. How right they were.