Feeling sleepy she glanced at the clock. It was thirty minutes past nine in the night, and surprisingly her eyelids were heavy with sleep. She wanted to sleep late as the next day was a holiday. A whim that she sometimes yielded to at times. Walking to the bed, she arranged her blankets on her, positioned her head and body according to her comfort and let peaceful slumber overcome her.
During the wait the pigeons sheltered against the windowsill muttered in their typical manner. A regular muttering. Couldn't they simply stay still and quiet! It was drizzling outside, perhaps they were complaining at the wet atmosphere. A bike whizzed by, horning at some obstacle. The screeching of it's brakes crashed the silence of the dark night. A few voices could be heard, some whispers, some noises. Indecipherable.
Soft melodious music was being played somewhere. Maybe a recorded lullaby intended to put a baby to sleep. The lilting tune gently led her to the stupor that precedes sleep. In that state of relaxation, she dreamt wild. The absurdness of the flow of thoughts in the subconscious mind brought her back into reality. On opening her eyes, she was enveloped by the inky blueness of the dead night. Pushing her hair back, away from her face, she fell into a torpor that would last till the next sunrise.