Involuntary Loss of Unconsciousness

You come home from a game of basketball and dinner.

You take a long shower and feel your limps loosening to the point of slack.

You feel refreshed after shower and proceed to do some stuff on the PC downstairs.

You fool around with your PC until that someone calls on the mobile.

You chat for a while on the mobile, say good night and continue tooling on the PC.

You shut off the PC at 11.30pm.

You brush your teeth summarily and go to bed.

You lose consciousness.

You gain consciousness at 1.30am.

You think nothing of it.

You even brush it off as a dream.

You start to wait to fall back to sleep.

You wait some more.

You toss and you turn.

You then wait some more.

You decide to wait while waiting to fall back to sleep.

You begin to feel hot and exerted from all the tossing and turning.

You go turn on the air-conditioner.

You begin to let weird things drift in the cavity of your mind.

You begin to executive produce a rejected episode of The Bold and The Beautiful in your head.

You start to think about the things you need to do in the current job and the next.

You begin to feel frustrated.

You get up to drink water from a bottle on the desk next to the bed.

You also realise you hurt your left leg a little while playing basketball earlier.

You switch on the bedside lamp and venture downstairs.

You see that the clock reads 2.30am.

You pick up a copy of Cars, Bikes, Trucks and used the Family Throne.

You ogle at the Ferrari 599GTB Fiorano on the centrefold.

You go back up for another attempt at voluntarily losing consciousness.

You, of course, then wait.

You check the time and see that it’s 3.45am.

You try to hold the door close but things still pry into your mind.

You indulge an analysis of your current lack of consciousness.

You are taken away from the wheel and put into the backseat of your mind.

You begin to be quite concerned when Anthony Bourdain, Shaquille O’Neal and Russell Peters start to discuss Japanese sub-culture with you.

You tell your sanity to stay put and sit down.

You threaten to put your sanity up on disciplinary charges and a suspension of pay and holiday if it doesn’t do as you tell it.

You lighten up considerably when Angelina Jolie, Charlize Theron, Maria Sharapova and Naomi Watts start to whisper incomprehensible nothings to you.

You see them fade away when the unwelcome spectre of your work for the coming day gatecrashes your party with the ladies.

You replace thoughts of work with thoughts of beer with your mates.

You thought better of that and switched paths.

You realise you are actually dreaming.

You realise you are not dreaming when you have to get up and put on a sweater for the cold.

You see 4.50am on the mobile’s clock.

You reset your alarm from 6.45am to 7.20am.

You contemplate going downstairs again to look for some sleeping pills.

You realise that’s a bad idea.

You catch yourself thinking of Transformers, Legos, wine, basketball, and how you are going to blog about this the next day.

You sit up.

You wonder at what kind of shape you will be in for the meeting with a client later in the morning.

You wonder about the consequences if you were to oversleep and miss the meeting.

You toy with the idea of staying awake until dawn and go to work early.

You say screw it and lie back down.

You take the pillow away from under your head.

You then open your eyes again and in panic, reach frantically for the mobile to check the time.

You shake your head when it reads 7.16am.

You get up shakily, head to the bathroom, and, while looking in the mirror, say:

SHIT.