I had abandoned the posture of a hunter and was now sprawled out on the beach using a jacket as a pillow. I contemplated a nap, thought, “Why not?” and took one.
It was one of those sleeps that undulates in depth. On one end, you’re conscious of what’s going on around you, like the hooter across the water. On the other end, you’ve just landed at the airport in New Jersey and you’re upset the font is so small on the baggage claim sign. You know, stuff that makes absolutely no sense and even Sigmund would shrug his shoulders.
The thing about sleeping is that it makes you an inactive participant in life. You’re not escaping reality, you’re avoiding it. In some cases, this isn’t a big deal.