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Description
It is quiet.
Peaceful.
A pondering sensation that slips down your spine.
It pulls on your senses, daring them to let go.
It muffles the noise of city streets.
It hushes the frustrations of daily life.
It takes you where no one else can go.
It darkens the light.
It lightens the dark.
It can be frightful, and terrifying.
Or it can be wonderous.
Indescribable.
Something only you would know and remember.
It can be easy to find again, and hard to recall.
It can be pushed and pulled, squeezed and stretched, changed and regulated.
It has no limits, no boundaries, no sense of time or where or how.
Nothing and no one will tell you what to do.
Where to go.
How to act or feel or see.
You rule over it, yet you serve under its power.
It is your friend if you let it, foe if you don't.
It has no colors, no shapes, no textures or tastes.
It is ugly, and pretty, a colorful array of forms and surfaces.
It speaks.
It yelps, it laughs and shouts.
It chuckles, it whines, it smiles and pouts.
It lasts for years and days at a time. It lasts a few seconds or minutes.
It never knows, and always knows.
It asks questions and gives answers.
It sorts through everything, yet it touches nothing.
It can heal, and can hurt.
It can startle you out of your daze, or pull you deeper into one.
It is empty.
It is full.
It is wise and foolish too.
It is blank.
Silent.
Dull.
Or brillant, vibrant and true.
It is the one thing that keeps us close to ourselves.
The one thing that shows us who we are.

Dreaming.
Imagining.
Nightmares.
Bliss.
Drowsiness and confusion.

It is sleep.

Description
It is quiet.
Peaceful.
A pondering sensation that slips down your spine.
It pulls on your senses, daring them to let go.
It muffles the noise of city streets.
It hushes the frustrations of daily life.
It takes you where no one else can go.
It darkens the light.
It lightens the dark.
It can be frightful, and terrifying.
Or it can be wonderous.
Indescribable.
Something only you would know and remember.
It can be easy to find again, and hard to recall.
It can be pushed and pulled, squeezed and stretched, changed and regulated.
It has no limits, no boundaries, no sense of time or where or how.
Nothing and no one will tell you what to do.
Where to go.
How to act or feel or see.
You rule over it, yet you serve under its power.
It is your friend if you let it, foe if you don't.
It has no colors, no shapes, no textures or tastes.
It is ugly, and pretty, a colorful array of forms and surfaces.
It speaks.
It yelps, it laughs and shouts.
It chuckles, it whines, it smiles and pouts.
It lasts for years and days at a time. It lasts a few seconds or minutes.
It never knows, and always knows.
It asks questions and gives answers.
It sorts through everything, yet it touches nothing.
It can heal, and can hurt.
It can startle you out of your daze, or pull you deeper into one.
It is empty.
It is full.
It is wise and foolish too.
It is blank.
Silent.
Dull.
Or brillant, vibrant and true.
It is the one thing that keeps us close to ourselves.
The one thing that shows us who we are.

Dreaming.
Imagining.
Nightmares.
Bliss.
Drowsiness and confusion.

It is sleep.