How strange is it that I have trouble sleeping

Just like the main character in the book I’m reading

I take my hot bath

Try to wash away a long day’s wrath

I sit on the side of the bed then recline

I slip under the fuzzy maroon blanket

The room is dark, the sheets cool

I try to unwind

I click the flashlight and open the book in my hands

My eyes are heavy as I read the author’s plans

That main character has heavy eyes too

But so many things to do

So she says “after this thing I’ll sleep”

But then there’s another thing

Packing, dinners, emails

Just like the get-togethers and car collisions in my dreams

Movie actors appear on my schedule

Just like that character’s colleagues meddle

I read about them on that ship

Her burning desire to get out of it

She feels like lead

Longing to get to bed

The lull of the boat she’s on has a soporific effect

Just like the intriguing novel in my tired hands

What would one expect

The lines between sea and land blur

Just like the melting of fiction and reality

In no more time, after no more things, I’m off to sleep