Damn, That Feels Good!

I captured a nice feeling recently, one that I've probably experienced all my life but that has taken many years to prop itself consciously into my mind. Now it's there in the forefront of my mind I'll probably be so aware of it that I'll get bored of it or lose interest in it.

Like that phenomenon when you love a song that you hear on the radio, it feels like you can't hear it enough times and it also seems as if it's always on the radio. Then, you go out and buy it on iTunes or, in the case of many of you, a dodgy shop in Majestic City, you play it a few times and before you know it you're sick of it. The element of surprise has been hijacked, by you.

This feeling has been buried in the subconscious deep parts of my mind because it's one that I, and probably you, only really feel when I'm asleep, or nearly asleep, or when you're asleep.

Picture the situation; there you are in bed fast asleep. You wake, but just a bit, and feel uncomfortably warm. Perhaps the duvet is a bit too much, maybe the Sri Lankan balmy night has got to you and you become intensely aware of the heat. But, you move your legs and there you find the most gorgeous patch of cold and crisp sheet that the half sleepy mind can deal with.

It feels like you've moved from fighting your way through a pool of treacle to jumping around on a moon with no gravity, as if you've been struggling through traffic on the Galle Road for the last hour and you've finally got past Mount Lavinia and the road is clearing, but it's a motorway and you're in a fast car. Of course this only works if the sea is on your right, unless you're reversing, but then you probably wouldn't be able to go very fast.

It only lasts for a short while because you either fall asleep very quickly or the new fresh patch of sheet gets all warm soon anyway. I should imagine it's a bit like the rush these heroin addict chaps get, in a totally different way, but you know what I mean. It's a quick buzz and it's gone before you can say Amy Winehouse.

But just see if you can feel it. When you wake up in the night and you move to a clean and fresh patch of sheet, spare a thought for me, the inventor of your new lovely feeling.