Pure Panic

Last night, as the last of the sun was setting, I got sleepy. Twenty more minutes and I would be heading off to bed.

I rounded up the babies (dogs), let them out, brushed my teeth, flossed, and headed downstairs to the cool offerings of the bedroom. With both babies tucked in, the wife kissed, the cat on standby, I slid into the sheets, pulled the comforter up to my chin, and prepared myself for sleep. I was tired; it was sure to come quickly.

BING!

My eyes popped open. I could feel my heart beating in my head (that can't be right, can it?). The cavity of my chest filled with a playground full of screaming children.

Here we go, I thought. It's been awhile. Time to think about my imminent death.

Why does it always happen when it's dark and quiet? Why can't it happen when I'm sitting in the sun? Or watching 30 Rock? Or "doing it" with my wife? Oh no. It has to hit me when it's creepy and eerie and dark and scary with nowhere for me to hide.

What will it feel like, the moment right before my brains stops working? Where will I be? Is my wife there? Has she died before me? Oh-my-god this is really going to happen! It went on and on and on.

I finally thought, It's not happening now. Calm the fuck down.

Calming the fuck down did help.

Still...

I'm exhausted this morning. The sun is out, I'm watching 30 Rock, and "doing it" with my wife. Life is good. I think that's my problem.