PJs

 

fig. Marcel Baumann (Swiss, Switzerland) 2006

When I was little, an itty bitty child in her PJs and blue sunglasses, I was scared to death of going to sleep. I hated naptime, I hated bedtime. I hated it so much, because I was terrified I'd die in my sleep and never wake up again. So every time I woke, I'd let out a sigh of relief and check that everything was the same way I'd left it, check that I'm not in some alternate dimension where things are subtly different from my own dimension.
But when did I become petrified instead of waking up and finding that my life is the way it is, unchanged and waiting for me to return to it?